Another Watson
by Eruaphadriel-99
Summary: With her life falling apart after quitting her job and losing her fiance to another, Elizabeth Watson decides to move in with her brother, John, and his friend, and though she thought it would only be temporary, she got yanked into the game, and found herself growing much closer to the clever detective than she ever thought she would.
1. Chapter 1

Elizabeth POV

"And I'm not staying long." I reminded. "I'm just staying until I get on my feet."

"Alright, I know, you've told me a thousand times before, Beth."

I took a long sip of my coffee, not listening to John, who was probably rambling on.

"Elizabeth?" John asked, rather loudly.

"Yes?" I said tentatively, knowing I had been caught, and was going to be chewed out for not paying attention.

"I asked when you were going to be here." He repeated, skipping a lecture, which I usually got; if not from him then from Harry or our mother.

"Not much longer. I just stopped for coffee, so it shouldn't be about, hmm, twenty minutes…?" I guessed.

"See you then." John said, adding his goodbye's at the end, before yelling something to someone else; his flat mate, Sherlock Holmes, no doubt.

I shoved my phone in my back pocket, grabbing my coat from the back of the chair, and walked out of the coffee shop.

As soon as the cab stopped, I jumped out of it, grabbing my bag, and practically running towards the door, ready to see John. It had been a little over two years since I had seen him last, except for holidays, but then I only got to say a couple of word to him before we were dragged off my other family members.

I rang the doorbell first. John had told me to just go on up, but I didn't want to interrupt anything. I rung a couple of times, and I was about to give up and call my brother, making sure I was in the right place, when an older lady answered the door. I looked up from my phone and smiled.

"Hello." I greeted her. She smiled back at me.

"Oh, hello." she said. "You must be Elizabeth." she assumed, moving out of the way to let me in.

"Yes." I confirmed. She introduced herself as Mrs. Hudson, the landlady, and led me up the stairs. I was expecting to hear more yelling, like from over the phone, or at least a TV, but it was absolute silence.

Mrs. Hudson knocked on the door, but didn't bother waiting for anyone to tell her to come in. She walked right into their flat with a little "hoo, hoo." and she gestured for me to follow, when she turned and realized I stayed at the top of the stairs.

"Come on it, love." she laughed. I heard a commotion in what I assumed to be the kitchen, and John suddenly appeared around the corner, wrapping me in a hug before I could even cross the threshold. I hugged him as well, patting him on the back slightly.

"Hello." I said. "John, I missed you too, but I would like to breath, if you don't mind." I laughed. his grip loosened a little before he let go of me completely. When I looked in the living room, though, to thank Mrs. Hudson for letting me in, she had disappeared. I didn't question it, though. There must have been another way out. She knew the place better than I did.

"Here, let me show you to your room." John said, taking the bags from my hands, going back out of the door, and heading up the stairs to the spare bedroom.

It was a nice little room with a small window, that, despite it's size, let in a lot of light. There was already a bed, bookshelf filled with books, and a desk with John's laptop sitting on it.

"Oh, I forgot I left this in here." John said, going to grab it.

"I don't want to take your room," I began, but he cut me off.

"You're fine. How many times do I have to tell you this?" He laughed. I joined him, and he left me to unpack.

It wasn't long before my bags were empty and I had nothing else to do. I had scanned the book on the shelf, but found nothing very interesting. Decided not to sit around in this room all day. I made my way back downstairs, into the living room.

Upon entering, I noticed things about the place that I didn't the first time. The desk that was pushed against the wall was littered with papers and some books. I moved around to the mantelpiece, which had a nice display of bats…. and a skull.

"Is this real?" I asked the figure on the couch, turning to look at them. They looked at me, briefly.

"Don't touch it." they mumbled. I put my hands in the air.

"Wouldn't dream of it." I said, plopping down into the reddish arm chair.

"So, you must be Elizabeth." He said, getting up from the couch and walking over to the desk. I nodded.

"Yeah, but it's just Beth." I informed him. He only nodded and began sorting through some of the papers. He found today's paper, and sat in the armchair in front of mine.

"Already unpacked?" John asked, coming into the living room. I looked up at him and nodded.

"There wasn't much to unpack really.' I explained, shrugging. John nodded.

"Right then. Well, I'm going to the store. Would you like to come, or do you just want me to pick up something for you?" John asked. Deciding that I would like to see a bit of London, a grabbed my coat.

"Let's go."

The trip hadn't gone like I thought it would. While I got to see a bit of London, it wasn't the bit I was wanting to see. Still, I got to spend some time with my brother.

"So, how's Jem?" John asked. Jem, my fiance, had traveled with me most of the time. He come with me on the holidays, and John seemed to really like him. I was glad, but I guess it didn't matter now.

"He's not really in the picture anymore." I explained. John's eyebrows came together.

"Why not? I thought you two were serious." He said.

"I was." I swallowed. "Him? Not so much." I smiled a bit sadly.

"Oh, Beth, I'm sorry. Loo…"

"It's fine."

"No, Beth, look, do you want me to kill him?" He asked. I began to laugh out loud. "Because I will find him myself and kill him."

John began to laugh a little too just as we arrive at the store.

"Come on." John paid the driver, and we got out of the cab.


	2. Chapter 2: The Blind Banker Part 1

**For the next few chapters or so, I will be following the episode The Blind Banker (which some parts of it, I still don't entirely understand, but I'm hoping writing it will help clear somethings up.)**

**The update gap between the next few chapters should be pretty short, I hope, and I'm kind of excited to write them! **

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and, as always, vote, comment, and all that good stuff :)**

**P.S. Responses to reviews will be posted in the bottom A/N!**

Everyone was staring. John was becoming angry with the chip-and -PIN machine, while I stood behind him, backing away slightly, smiling nervously at all some of the onlookers, hoping they would move on. most of them did.

"Keep it, keep that." John pointed at the machine, and walked away, leaving the man behind him looking surprised. I followed John, trying not to laugh.

"You took your time." Sherlock said to the both of us, as we walked into the flat. John stopped at the doorway, while I went to sit in the other armchair across from Sherlock, who was calmly reading a book.

"Yeah, I didn't get the shopping." john said, looking around the flat, but not moving from his spot.

"What?" Sherlock looked over his book at John. "Why not."

"Because he had a row." I told him. "With a chip-and-PIN machine."

"You had a row with a machine?"

"Sort of." John said.

"It sat there while he shouted abuse."

"Have you got any cash?"

Sherlock tried to hold back an amused smile, and I did the same. being there, the situation was much funnier, I couldn't hold mine back. John heard me laughing and sent a look my way.

"Take my card." Sherlock nodded towards the kitchen table, and John went to grab it, stopping when he got halfway there.

"You could always go yourself, you know." John said. "You've been sitting there all morning. You've not

evern moved since Beth and I left." And what about that case-The Jaria Diamond?" he asked. Sherlock slammed the book shut, causing me to jump slightly, in surprise.

"Not interested." I heard metal clank, and looked down, finding a sword that was pushed under Sherlock's chair. I looked up at him, an eyebrow raised, and he winked at me, putting a finger to his lips, and looking to John. I nodded. "I sent them a message."

It was silent for a second while John looked for a card he could use out of Sherlock's wallet. "You coming this time, Beth?" John asked me. I turned to find him rubbing a mark on the table.

"I think I'll stay." I looked to Sherlock "If that's alright." he only shrugged.

"Alright." John said, straightening up. "Ugh, Holmes." he sighed, walking out the door, Sherlock smirking after him.

It was boring at 221b. Sherlock was silent most of the time, and it was a small flat with nothing much to do. I liked it though.

"Do you play?" I asked Sherlock while looking towards his violin.

"What?" he asked. I nodded towards the violin sitting on the desk.

"Do you play. The violin, I mean." I clarified. He nodded.

"Yes. When I'm thinking." he responded, closing his eyes and bringing his hands up in front of his lips.

"Show me." I always liked violin music, or, really, just music in general. Whenever I was younger, Mom had a piano in the living room and I would play it constantly, not really knowing what I was doing, except making few prety chords. I begged mom to get a tutor for me, but it never happened. No one around would teach me.

His eyes shot open, and he stared at me.

"You want me to play?" He asked, as if he completely misunderstood.

I laughed. "Yeah, play something."

He sat and thought about it for a minute, almost like he was waiting for me to say I was kidding. I only raised my eyebrows and nodded towards the instrument again. "Please." I tried manners.

Finally, he rose from the armchair, and cradled the violin between his chin and shoulder. I crossed my legs and got comfortable, ready to listen.

He didn't face me. Instead he looked out of the window, and raised the bow, bringing it to the strings and in two simple notes I knew what it was; Claire de Lune-my favorite.

I closed my eyes, and listened, in absolute bliss.

The song ended much too quickly, and I opened my eyes to look at him. Every note had been played perfectly.

"That was beautiful." I complimented. He flashed a quick smile, before going back to his usual frown. He placed the violin back in it's place on the desk, and moved towards John's laptop.

"Thank you. Do you play?" he asked, opening the computer. I shook my head, even though he couldn't see me.

"No. I always wanted to learn, but never got around to it. I know piano and guitar, but that's about it." I explained He only nodded.

"You'll have to learn sometime." Sherlock mumbled after a few minutes had passed. I looked at him.

"Oh yeah? Know any good teachers?" I asked, but he didn't answer.

I heard someone coming up the stairs, obviously struggling, but we didn't get up to help. I stayed in the armchair, watching TV, while Sherlock was still on John's computer.

"Don't worry about me. I can manage." John shouted sarcastically.. I actually got up to help him, pausing my TV show, but Sherlock remained in his seat, unmoving.

"How was everything while I was out?" John whispered to me while I helped him set the bags on the table. I nodded,

"Things went okay, why?" I asked, but he didn't answer me. The duo seemed to be keen on leaving me wondering.

"Is that my computer?"

"Of course" Sherlock responds. "Mine was in the bedroom."

"What, and you couldn't be bothered to go and get it?" John then turned to me. "And you let him?" I shrugged innocently.

"I was watching TV." I gave an excuse, even though it wasn't entirely true. John sighed. "It's password protected." He said to Sherlock, who never looked at him.

"In a matter of speaking." he said. "Took me less to figure yours out." He turned his head slightly to look at my brother, who was clearly upset. "Not exactly Fort knox."

"Right, thank you." John slammed the laptop, almost getting his flatmates fingers in the process. He walks across the room, and sits in the arm chair, putting his computer beside him, and picked up some of the mail on the end table beside him, flipping through the envelopes.

I placed myself in the gray arm chair across from him, and leaned my head back, closing my eyes. They had become slightly heavy, since I didn't get much sleep last night, due to being in a new place. When I was traveling, when we stopped at a new location, the first night was always the roughest. I wouldn't get to sleep until the wee hours of the morning. Here it wasn't as bad. I got to sleep at three in the morning rather than six, like usual, and I actually stayed asleep, unlike anywhere else I had been. It was nice, but I was still tired.

I knew part of it could be from being in a plane or car for so long, but I also knew that that wasn't all of it.

'Oh." I opened my eyes when John sighed, to find him shaking his head, slamming the letters back of the table. "need t get a job."

"Oh, dull." Sherlock responded, rather quickly. I turned to look at him. He was sitting in the same chair, his back facing me, so I couldn't see anything except his black curls and his back, but that was obvious.

I looked back at John, who was leaning forward his in chair, a bit awkwardly.

"Look," he began, looking at his friend, who was lost in thought. "If you'd be able to lend me some..." he trailed off. "Sherlock, are you listening?" he asked.

"I need to go to the bank." Sherlock shot up from the chair, and grabbed his coat, John following. He suddenly stopped in the doorway, looking at me.

"You coming, Beth?" My brother asked. I didn't say anything, I only got up and grabbed my jacket from the couch, quickly, and we hurried to join Sherlock.

I followed to partners into the bank, a little lost and confused. I stared at the foyer, which was quite impressive, but i was falling behind. I stopped admiring, and jogged to the two, who were getting onto an escalator.

"Right, so when you said we were going to the bank..." I didn't finish

We got off of the moving stair, which I always had a slight obsession over as a kid, and walked to a receptions desk.

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Sherlock Holmes!" A man exclaimed, walking into the office.

"Sebastian." Sherlock shook his hand. I stood awkwardly by my brother, waiting, and desperately wanting, to sit down.

"Howdy, buddy. How long's it been?" He asked. "Eight years since I last laid eyes on you."

I looked to Sherlock, who was looking at Sebastian. He obviously disliked him. Sebastian turned to John and I.

"This is my friend John, and his sister Elizabeth."

"Just Beth." I siad. Sherlock shook his head.

"Elizabeth." I looked at him, almost smacking him on the arm. It's not that I didn't like my first name, but it just seemed like such a mouthful.

Sebastian only nodded, and looked to Sherlock. "Friend?" He asked.

"Colleague." John clarified.

"Right." Sebastian reached over to shake both of our hands."Well, grab a pew." We went to the chair to sit down. Sadly though, there were only two. Being nice, I decided to let John and Sherlock sit down, since Sebastian seemed to have business with them only, and I was a bit of dead weight. John wouldn't have it, though, and didn't sit down, telling me to do so. I gave in, not wanting to keep Sebastian waiting on us. "Need anything? Coffee? Water?" He asked.

"Coffee would be lovely." I said, meekly. He smiled at me and asked his assistant to get a cup. He looked to John and Sherlock.

Sherlock only shook his head, and Joh voiced his 'no'.

"That'll be all." he told his secretary.

"So you're doing well. You've been abroad a lot." Sherlock stated.

"Well, some."

"Flying all around the world, twice in one month?"

"Right." Sebastian laughed and pointed to Sherlock. "You're doing that thing again." He looked to John and I. "We were at uni together. This guy had a trick he used to do."

"It's not a trick." He mumbled beside me.

"Put the wind up everybody, we hated him." Sebastian continued. I smiled, looking at Sherlock, thinking Sebastian was joking or exaggerating, but Sherlock's face was filled with pain, for only a second, as he looked towards the ground. It was so quick, I barely caught it, but as soon as I did, I stopped smiling, realizing that Sebastian was telling the truth. Poor guy.  
"You'd come down to breakfast in the formal hall, and this freak would know who you'd been shagging the night before." I scowled at him. I never liked the word freak. It always put me in a bad mood hearing it.

"Don't know how you would know. Who would want to shag you?" I said under my breath, knowing he wouldn't hear me. John and Sherlock did, though. John hit me on the back of the head, slightly, while Sherlock let out rare and almost inaudible chuckle.

"What did you say?" Sebastian asked, genuinely. He obviously heard me speaking,just couldn't understand, thank goodness. Thankfully his secretary walked him just about that time.

"I said thank you for the coffee. " I said as his secretary handed the steaming cup to me. "I'm sure it's lovely." I smiled. He only nodded and smiled back at me, leaning back into his chair.

"No problem Elizabeth." my smile slightly turned to a frown.

"I simply observed." Sherlock sad, going back to the previous subject.

"Go on then, enlighten me." Sebastian said with a smug smile on his face. "Two trips a month,flying all around the world,-You're quite right. How could you tell? You're gonna tell me there was, um, a stain of ketchup on my tie you can only get in Manhattan?" I heard John laugh a little, and I smiled.

"No, I..." Sebastian interrupted him.

"Maybe it was the mud on my shoes!" I looked to Sherlock, who was looking back at Sebastian, waiting for him to finish.

"I was just talking to your secretary outside."

Sebastian began to laugh, while John and I frowned at him. We never spoke to his secretary. Sebastian clapped his hands together, becoming more serious. "I'm glad you could make it. : he said. "We've had a break-in."

He lead us across the trading floor towards another door.

"Sir William's office-the bank's former Chairmans. The rooms been left here like a sort of memorial. Someone broke in late last night."

"What did they steal?" I asked, feeling a little out of place, but also very curious.

"Nothing. Just a little message." He unlocked the door with his card, and hanging on the plain, white wall was a framed portrait of a man in a nice suit, obviously the late Sir William Shad. It wasn't bad, except a large strip had been painted over his eyes. To the left was a graffiti 'tag' that looked kind of like an eight , but the top half wasn't closed and a line, like the one over Sir William Shad.

Back in Sebastian's office, he is showing us security footage. I couldn't really see, though, will all three men standing in front of me.

"Sixty seconds apart."Sebastian said, clicking buttons on his keyboard. "so someone came in here in the middle of the night, splashed paint around, then lat in one minute. "

"How many ways into that office?" Sherlock asked.

"That's where this gets interesting."

We were lead back into the reception area, and shows us a computer screen, which, again, I am unable to see.

"Every door that opens in the bank, gets locked right here. Every walk-in cupboard, every toilet.

"That door didn't open last night?" Sherlock asked him.

"There's a hole in our security. Find it, and we'll pay you-five figures." Sebastian reached into his pocket, and got out a check. "This is an advance. Tell me how he got in, and there's a bigger one on it's way."

"I do not need and incentive, Sebastian. " Sherlock walked away, leaving John and I with Sebastian, a bit shocked.

"Sh-shall I look after that for him?" john asked, Sebastian hands him the check, and John loks at it, shaking his head. I got a peek at it too, and was shocked. That was only the advance.

Sherlock went to look around on the trade floor, while John and I found somewhere to sit.

"You can go back to the flat, you know. You don't have to stay here." I nodded at John, who quickly added, "It's not that I don't want you around, I do, it's just..." he trailed off when chuckled.

"I'm fine. This is actually kind of cool, in a weird way." I stated. John let out a short laugh.

"Well then, you just might like it here. This is nothing." he said. I looked at him wide eyed, and was about to ask him a question, when John nudged my shoulder, pointing across the room. I looked over and saw Sherlock, dancing, almost, around the trading room. I laughed.

Sherlock, later, lead us back to the escalator.

"Two trips around the world in a month, you didn't talk t his secretary, you said that to irritate him." John stated. Sherlock smiled not responding.

"How did you know?" I asked, confused.

"Did you see his watch?" He asked.

"His watch?"

"The timing was right, but the date was wrong. Said two days ago. Crossed the dateline twice, but he didn't alter it." He explained.

"OKay, but within a month? What about that part?" I asked.

"New Breitling." he said simply. "Only came out this February."

"So, should we sniff around here a bit longer?" John asked.

"Already got everything I need, thanks."

"Hmm?"

"That graffiti message was left for someone at the bank working on the trading floors. We find the recipient and..." he tailed off.

"...they'll lead us to the person who sent it." I finished.

"Obvious." Sherlock responded.

"Well, there are three-hundred people up there. Who was it meant for?" John asked.

"Pillars."

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Pillars and the screens. Very few places you can see the graffiti from. That narrows it down considerably." he explained. "And, of course, the message was left at eleven-thirty four last night. that tells us a lot."

We left the bank through the revolving door, which I hated.

"Does it?" John asked.

"Traders come to work at all hours. Some trade with Hong Kong in the middle of the night. That message was intended for someone who came in at midnight."

"Who?" I assumed he knew the answer already. He held up a strip of paper with a name on it.

"Not many Van Coons in the phonebook." He stated, and called a taxi.

Sherlock rung the doorbell, and looked up at the security camera, while john and I stood behind him.

"So what do we do know?" I asked, after Sherlock had rung the doorbell a couple more times.

"Sit and wait for him to come back?" John suggested. Sherlock looked back at us both, amused.

"just moved in."

"What?" I asked.

"The floor above. New label."  
"Or they could have just replaced it." I suggested.

"No one ever does that. Come here." he said.

"Me?" I asked. He nodded. "Why?"  
"Because..." he rung the bell, looking at the camera. He was going to explain, but they had already answered.

"Hello?" they said over the intercom.

"Hi." sherlock said, not sounding like himself at all. He pulled me closer to him, and I smiled into the camera, unsure of what was going on. "Um, we live in the flat just below you. I don't think we've met." He smiled into the camera. 'we'?

"No, well, uh, I've just moved in." she explained. Sherlock turned to John, as if to say 'i told you so' and then turned to me, with the same look. It was then I noticed that we were only mere inches way from each other, and I instantly got butterflies in my stomach, and I didn't know why.

"Actually, um, we've just locked our keys in our flat." He said, turning back to the camera.

"D'you want me to buzz you in?" she asked. I nodded, finally catching on to what he was doing, a little, and playing a part.

"Yeah." Sherlock said. "and can we use your balcony?"

"What?"

Sherlock had charmed his way into Ms. Wintle's flat not long after.

"so, how long have you two lived here?" She asked. I looked to Sherlock, wondering if we were still using the cover story, even though I didn't know why we even had one at all. It seems like she would have let him in anyway.

"Oh, not long. Not long at all." Sherlock said. Apparently, we are.

"How long have you known each other?" She kept asking questions. I was getting a bit annoyed.

"About three years." he answered. Three days, I thought.

"Ah, how did you meet?" I let out an annoyed sigh, praying Sherlock would ignore her. Maybe she would get the memo. Nope.

"Office romance. Now, about your balcony?" he said. She lead us back to it, thankfully asking noting on the way.

He walked out onto it, and I watched, confused. Sherlock had climbed over the side of the balcony, and jumped down, landing outside of Van Coon's flat. I went over to the side, and looked down at him, wide eyed.

"Come on." He said, standing there, waiting for me. I climbed onto the ledge, absolutely terrified. What if I fell? What if, by some bizarre chance, I missed the balcony below me? Which, the last one wasn't possible, but that didn't stop the fact that the thought ran through my mind. I sat there for a minute,contemplating on climbing back into Ms, Wintle's flat, and making my way back downstairs to John.

"Are you going to sit up there all day? Come on." he called, and I doubted he would wait any longer. Sucking it up, and squinting my eyes, I let go of the ledge and braced myself, only to be caught by none other than Sherlock.

"Now, was that so bad." he said, putting me down, and going towards the door. I stayed in one spot, though, waiting for my adrenaline to go down.

Luckily the door was unlocked, and when I was ready, I walked inside. Sherlock was already looking around, even opening the fridge, which was full of bottles of champagne.

It was a nice flat, full of nice, expensive furniture. I was almost afraid to walk in; I didn't want to mess anything up and have to pay for it.

The doorbell buzzes, and John yells from the other side. "Sherlock? Beth?"

Sherlock didn't answer, and gestured for me to do the same, moving towards the bedroom. We glanced in the bathroom, but I didn't see anything much in there, so I went on to, what I assumed was the bedroom, and tried to open the door, but it was locked.

"Here." He pushed my shoulder, gently, moving me out of the way.

"Yeah, any time you feel like letting me in."John yelled. Sherlock had turned, and hit the door with his shoulder, causing the door to bust open. When I saw him, I almost gagged.

A man was lying on the bed, a gun in the floor, and a bullet hole in his right temple.

**So, I'll stop 'er there because I don't want this chapter to be too long.**

**How do you like it so far? I think it's really coming together, and I am super excited for later chapters. I have planned out a lot, and I am trying to re watch episodes and find places to add her in, and place little side comments, and things like that. **

**Responses to reviews:**

**The Supreme General: ( )**

_**"Hi! :)  
I am loving your work so far, and it has me hooked on it already. I like what you have done already, and am looking forward to learning more about Elizabeth, and seeing how she will work in the Sherlock/John duo.  
I am looking forward to your new chapters! :)**_

_**Keep being awesome.**_

_**Sincerely,  
The Supreme General"**_

**Okay, to be honest, your review almost made me cry! Thank you so much, and I am soo glad that you enjoy it! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well, and thank you sooo much for your feedback! You have no clue how much it meant to me.**

**Of course, any feedback I get fuels me to write, but this yours was amazing! Thank you, again, so, so much!**

**I think that was the only review I've gotten for the last chapter, and I think that's it for this Authors Note.**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'll see you guys again very soon.**

**Catch. You. Later. :)**


	3. Chapter 3 The Blind Banker Part 2

**Alrighty, this was quick. I started on this after I posted the other one, so it shouldn't have been much of a wait (I usually write these before I write the chapter, so...)**

**Anyway, I wanted to give a shout out to the one who provided a transcript for The Blind Banker. The link to it is below, and it was a huge help! Thank you!**

**Any who, here is chapter number 3: The Blind Banker Part 2 (I keep wanting to write blond instead of blind for some reason. Kinda funny, to be honest...)**

'Do you think he lost a lot of money? Suicide is common among city boys." John stated.

Police had already swarmed into the flat, and we were waiting on Lestrade, whom I was kind of looking forward to meeting, to be honest. John had told me a bit about him before I got to London, even though he himself didn't know very much, other than he worked at Scotland Yard.

Upon waiting, Sherlock decided to look around the bedroom, gathering evidence, while John and I stood behind, watching him. I would look around a little, but I never left my spot.

"We don't know it was suicide." Sherlock stated, bending down to look at a suitcase.

"Come on." John said. "The door was locked from the inside, you two had to climb down the balcony."

Sherlock ignored him.

"Been away three days, judging by the laundry." he said, standing and looking to us. "Look at the case, there was something tightly packed inside it." I made a face.

"Thanks, I'll take your word for it."

"Problem?" Sherlock looked at me.

"Yeah, I'm not desperate to root around some bloke's dirty underwear." I said. John laughed a little.

"Those symbols at the bank, the graffiti, why were that put there?" he asked.

"Sort of a code?" John guessed.

"Obviously. Why were they painted? Want to communicate, why not use e-mail?"

"Well, maybe he wasn't answering." I said, half joking, but it was probable, I guess.

"Oh, good, you follow." So I was on the right track.

"No, I don't." John said. Sherlock stopped digging in the dead man's pockets to look at him.

"What kind of a message would everyone try to avoid?"

_A threat. _I thought, or so I thought. Apparently, i said it out loud. Sherlock looked at me and smiled, only for a second, before searching the man again.

"What about this morning?" Sherlock asked. "Those letters you were looking at?"

"Bills?"

Sherlock pulled something from the mans mouth, causing me to make another disgusted face.

"Yes, Elizabeth was right. He was being threatened."

I leaned over to see the tiny piece that Sherlock pulled from Van Coon's mouth, disgusted, but curious at the same time.

"_Silence of the Lambs_* " I whispered, but apparently no one else got it, based on the looks the two boys gave me. I looked down.

"Not by the Gas Board." John joked.

I heard the man before he entered the room, asking for fingerprints on the glass.

"Sergeant, we haven't met." Sherlock walked towards the shorter, angry looking man, putting the piece that was in Van Coon's mouth in a bag.

"Yeah, I know who you are." He stated, putting his hands on his hips. "And I would prefer it if you didn't tamper with any of the evidence."

Sherlock removed his outstretched hand, and replaced it with the one holding the bag. The angry man snatched it from him.

"I phones Lestrade. Is he on his way?"

"He's busy. I'm in charge. And it's not Sergeant, it's Detective Inspector Dimmock."

Sherlock looked back at us, as Dimmock walked away, his eyes wide.

We walked after the D.I. into the living room, while he talked.

"we're obviously looking at a suicide." He stated, handing the evidence to someone else.

"It does seem the only explaination of all the facts." John agreed.

"Wrong, it's one possible explanation of some of the facts." he told us. "You've got solution that you like, but you are choosing to ignore anything you see that doesn't comply with it."

"Like?" D.I. Dimmock asked.

"The wound's on the right side of his head. Van Coon was left-handed. Requires a bit of contortion." he said, making a gun with his fingers and moving his arm around to the other side of his head a couple of times.

"Left-handed?" Dimmock asked, not wanting to believe what Sherlock had to say, and wanting to prove him wrong; corner him.

"I'm amazed you didn't notice. All you have to do is look around this flat. Coffee table on the left-hand side, coffee mug handle pointing to the left." He pointed to everything he was explaining, and I followed, silently cursing myself for not noticing sooner, but we can't ll be a genius. "Power sockets, habitually used the ones on the left. Pen and paper on the left hand side. Picked up the phone with his right, took messages with his left." I began looking round the flat to notice anything else. "D'you want me to go on?" He asked

"No, it think you've covered it." John said.

"I might as well, I'm almost at the bottom of the list. Elizabeth?"

I jumped, hearing my name. "Beth." I corrected, again.

"Elizabeth, do you have anything?" he asked.

"The knife on the breadboard." I said. From where I was standing, it was in my view, and was the only thing I could find. I was hoping he would elaborate.  
"Good. Explain." He commanded.

"The butter is on the right side of the blade because he used it with his left." I explained slowly, watching Sherlock's face, making sure I got everything right. He nodded. I let out a sigh of relief.

"Good. Exactly." he smiled at me, then turned to Dimmock. "It's highly unlikely that a left-handed man would shoot himself in the right side on the head. Conclusion, someone broke in here and murdered him-only explanation of al the fact."

"But the gun..."

"He was waiting for the killer. He'd been threatened."

"What?"Dimmock asked, but Sherlock walked away.

"Today at the bank, sort of a warning." John explained.

"He fires a shot when his attacker came in."

"And the bullet?" I asked, confused.

"Went through the open window." Well, it was possible...

"Oh, come on!" Dimmock laughed. "what are the chances of that?"

"Wait until you get the ballistics report. The bullet in his brain wasn't fire from his gun, I guarantee it."

"But if his door was locked from the inside, how did the killer get in?"

"Good, you're finally asking the _right _questions."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
"You can go back to the flat if you want." John suggested for the second time that day when we got into the cab. I shook my head.

"I'm fine, John, really."

"You sure? Beth, I know you've always liked this-mysteries, that sort of thing, but it _is _ your first week in London. Don't you want to, I don't know, go visit the London Eye or something? It is quite nice."

I shrugged. "Yeah, I would like to see it sometime, but this is fun too. Well," I quickly corrected myself. "It's not good that a man had died, but, well, you know." I looked down at my shoes, and then to John and Sherlock. John was giving me a small smile. but beside him, I could see Sherlock, looking out the window, smirking a little.

"Alright then." John said, straightening up. "It's whatever you want to do."

We arrive at a nice restaurant, decorated in purple lights. It was dim, but very nice, and seemed outrageously expensive. I really hopped we weren't eating here, because I was insanely underdressed.

Luckily we didn't. Instead we passed the lady in the front, and went towards a table. Seated at said table was Sebastian and some other men in nice suits, laughing.

"It was a threat." Sherlock said, getting right to the point. "That's what the graffiti meant."

"I'm kind of in a meeting. Can you make an appointment with my secretary?" he asked, looking around his table.

"Yeah, really looks like a serious meeting you've got going on." I said, quietly. Only John heard me, and he smacked my arm, slightly.

"I don't think this can wait. Sorry, Sebastian. one of your traders, someone who worked in your office, was killed."

"Van Coon." John said. "The police were at his flat."

"Killed?!" Sebastian was still a little taken aback.

"Sorry to interfere with everyones digestion. Still want t make an appointment?" Sherlock asked. "Would, maybe, nine o'clock at Scotland Yard suit?"

I was left waiting outside the men's restroom, which wasn't great at all. My phone had died, and there was nothing for me to do but think for a few minutes, which, for me right now, wasn't really a good think.

I liked doing this-running around trying to solve murders, and while this was fun and dandy, it was a distraction.

I never got to grieve-thats a nice way to put it. After I found out everything about Jem, I never got to 'cry it out' or rent sad, sappy movies and eat buckets of ice cream until I felt so fat, I thought I would fall through the floor if I tried to walk. I wasn't that type of person anyway. When people talk about feelings and begin to go all 'touchy feely', i tend to become a bit bored, and I wasn't the type to cry a lot, but after knowing someone and trusting them for five years, and even planning to marry them? That's tough. especially if it's with your-now ex- best friend, who was apparently 'much better looking' and 'so much better than you'.

Finally, I saw Sebastian leave the restroom, and I knew Sherlock and John wouldn't be too far behind, and I was right. They came out not long after,Sherlock passing right by me, but John looked at me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, giving me a small squeeze. I knew, even though he didn't know _what_ was wrong, he knew _something_ was wrong, judging by the sympathetic lokos he gave me. I laid my head on his shoulder as we walked out of the restaurant, ready for this day to be over so I could go to bed.

I walked down the stairs, finally getting a good nights rest. John had left to see about a job at the hospital leaving me alone with Sherlock for a while, not that I'm complaining. He wasn't such a bad guy, like everyone said he was. Yeah sometimes he was a bit rude, and I've only known him for a day, more or less, but he wasn't so bad.

"Good morning." I said to him. He was sitting in his chair, hands in a praying position underneath his chin. He looked at me, only moving slightly, as I walked into the kitchen.

"Morning." he mumbled.

"D'you want anything?" I asked, pointing to the fridge.

"No. Eating slows me down."

"I only nodded, and opened the fridge, pulling out some eggs we got yesterday, and pulling out a skillet.

I scrambled them, and cooked them quickly, grabbing the salt, and setting it all on the kitchen table.

"About yesterday." I began. Sherlock looked at me. "Why did I have to come with you? Into Van Coon's flat, I mean. I could've just waited outside with John." I took a bit of my breakfast, looking back at Sherlock. He shrugged.

"Thought that might be a bit boring. Wanted to get you in on the fun." He explained. I nodded slowly.

"What about John, then? Must have been boring for him, sitting outside." He took a deep breath.

"Your brother has done this before. You havent. Simple."

"Oh. Well, okay." I finished my breakfast, and put my plate in the sink, decided to wash it later.

" I said, could you pass me a pen?" Sherlock said. I turned around, thinking he was talking to me, but I was wrong. John was behind me, just getting back.

"What, when?" he asked.

"About an hour ago."

"Didn't notice I was gone, then?" he said, looking for a pen. "and you could have asked Beth."

"How did it go?" I asked John.

"Great She's great." He responded, looking in the mirror over the fireplace.I raised an eyebrow.

"Who?" Sherlock asked, the corners of his lips turning up slightly.

"The job."

"She?" I asked. John looked at me.  
"It." he corrected

"Yeah, have a look." Sherlock tilted his head back towards the laptop.

"'The intruder who can walk through walls.'"John read out loud.

"Happened last night. Journalist shot dead in his flat. Door locked, windows locked from the inside."

"Exactly the same as Van Coon." I butted in.

"God! Do you think..." John trailed off.

"He's killed another one."

"Are you coming this time too?" John asked. I nodded, and jumped up from my seat, running to grab my coat from my bedroom.

Once I did, I ran to the taxi to join the two boys, and we headed to New Scotland Yard.

"Brian Lukis, freelance journalist. Murdered in his flat…" Sherlock turned his laptop around to show Dimmock the web [age that John looked at earlier. "...doors locked from the inside."

"You've got to admit, that's similar." I said. Dimmock scowled at the computer.

"Both men killed by someone who can…" John stopped as if he was not able to believe what he was about to say "...walk through solid walls."

"Inspector, do you seriously believe that Eddie Van Coon was just another City suicide?" Sherlock questioned. Dimmock squirmed, and didn't meet his eyes. Sherlock looked up and sighed. "You _have_ seen the ballistics report, I suppose?"

Dimmock nodded. "Mmm"

"And the shot that killed him; was it fire from his own gun?" He asked, already knowing the answer, no doubt.

"No." Dimmock said, reluctantly."

"No." Sherlock repeated. "So this investigation might move a bit quicker, if you were to take my word as gospel." Sherlock leaned forward over the desk. He spoke quietly, but intensely in his face. "I've just handed you a murder enquiry. Five minutes in his flat."

We were at Lukis' flat, and I followed the boys and Dimmock up the stairs, making sure not to hit one of the precious books stacked on the staircase.

In the living room, an open suitcase was on the floor, and near it was a black origami flower, like the one Sherlock pulled from Van Coon's mouth, which was disgusting. No clue why he looked in there in the first place, to be honest. Kind of a good thing that he did, though...

"Four floors up." Sherlock said. He was standing in the kitchen area, looking through a window. "_That's_ why they think they're safe. Put a chain across the door and bolt it shut; think they're impregnable." he walked across the middle of the room again. "They don't reckon for a second that there's another way in." he turned back to the stairs, looking at the sky light above the landing.

"I don't understand." Dimmock said. _Not surprising_ I thought.

"A killer who can climb?" I guessed. Sherlock pointed at me.

"Exactly. You're dealing with a killer who can climb, just like Elizabeth said."

"Beth." I corrected under my breath, but I knew it was my breath I was wasting.

Sherlock jumped up on either a step stool or box- I couldn't see- to get closer to the skylight, which was angled on the roof.

"What are you doing?" Dimmock asked.

"He clings to walls like an insect." Sherlock unhooked the latch, pushing the skylight window up. "Thats how he got in."

"What?!"

"Climbed up the side of the walls, ran along the roof, dropped in through this skylight.

"You're not serious!" Dimmock exclaimed. "Like Spiderman?"

"He scaled six floors of a Docklands apartment building, jumped the balcony to kill Van Coon." Dimmock laughed in disbelief.

"Oh, ho-hold on." he laughed.

"And of course that's how he got into the bank. He ran along the window ledge and onto the terrace." Sherlock stepped down and looked around again.

"we have to find what connects these two men."

Sherlock jumped down a few steps and picked up a book, which had fallen, opening the front page. He slammed the book shut, and took it with him.

We find our way to the library, and John stopped me when we got off the escalator.

"Now, we're not here to browse." He joked.

"Shut up, and go." I said, laughing as I pushed him playfully. He laughed too.

We found our way to the aisle where Lukiss book came from.

"Date stamped on the book is the same day that he died." Sherlock explained. We began looking and picking out books, John immediately hitting the jackpot.

"Sherlock." He called. Sherlock stepped over to him, and I did the same, seeing yellow paint the would have been behind the books that John just pulled out. Sherlock grabbed a massive amount of the books, and pulled them off the shelf as well, revealing more yellow paint. The same two symbols that we saw in the bank sprawled across the bookshelf.

Back in 221b, photos were spread around the mirror over the fireplace. The boys stood there, looking at them, while I stayed on the couch on my laptop, finally getting some down time for the day, besides this morning. I checked my e-mail, finding I had three from Mom, and one from Harry.

Mom seemed insanely worried, and was wondering why I hadn't written her back. I just told her my laptop messed up. What was I supposed to say?

_Hey, Mom! Sorry I haven't been answering lately. I, Elizabeth, your youngest daughter, have been running around with John, and a man I've never met before, and know almost nothing about, chasing murderers! Talk to you soon! Love you!_

...Yeah, that probably, wouldn't have been the best. Lets keep it at a computer malfunction, which wasn't entirely a lie. My laptop was pretty slow and crappy.

I didn't lie to Harry, though. I just didn't say it as harshly as it sounded. _I've been working with John and Sherlock_ seemed like a good answer. Of course, I threw in the malfunction as well, just in case her and mom talk. And if mom asks why I didn't tell her about working with John, if it happens to slip from Harry? Whoops, slipped my mind.

I just didn't want her to worry...or hover..

"So, the killer goes to the bank, leaves a threatening cipher for Van Coon; Van Coon panics, returns to his apartment, locks himself in. Hours later, he dies."

"The killer finds Lukis at the library; he writes the cipher on the shelf where he knows it'll be seen; Lukis goes home." John added.

"He dies too." Sherlock finished.

"_Why_ do they die, Sherlock" I asked, quietly, but they heard me.

"Only the cipher can tell us." He answered, tapping his finger against the photo.

We walked around Trafalgar Square towards the National Gallery.

"The world's run on codes and ciphers, Watsons. From the million-pound security system at the bank, to the PIN machine you took exception too," I laughed silently, and John gave me a look. "...cryptography inhabits our every waking moment.

"Yes, okay, but…"

"...but it's all computer-generated: electronic codes, electronic ciphering methods. This is different. It's an ancient device. Modern code-breaking methods won't unravel it."

"Where are we headed?" I asked.

"I need to ask some advice." Sherlock answered. John smiled in disbelief.

"What?! Sorry?!" He asked. Sherlock gave him a black look.

"You heard me perfectly. I'm not saying it again

"You need advice?" John asked?

"On painting, yes. I need to talk to an expert."

Instead of going into the gallery, like I expected, and hoped we would, we right straight around it, to the back of the building. A man was painting away on a metal door, and as we approached him, I could make out what he was painting: a policeman with a rifle in his hands and a pig's nose. He was adding the finishing touches and his 'tag' 'RAZ'.

"Part of my new exhibition." he said.

"Interesting." Sherlock said, obviously not interested at all.

"I call it Urban Bloodlust Frenzy." he chuckled.  
"Oh, wow, catchy." I said, looking up towards the sky, praying that we could leave soon.

"I've got two minutes before a Community Support Officer comes round that corner." He looked at Sherlock. "Can we do this while I'm workin'?" he asked. Sherlock took out his phone, and held it out to show the guy, who, judging by his tag, I assumed was called Raz. He threw the paint cans to John, who caught them, and took Sherlock's phone from his hands, scrolling through the pictures.

"Know the author?" Sherlock asked.

"Recognise the paint. It's like Michigan; hardcore propellant. I'd say zinc." he answered.

"What about the symbols; d'you recognise them?"

Raz squinted at the pictures. "Not even sure it's a proper language."

"Two men have been murdered, Raz." Sherlock told him. "Deciphering this is the key to finding out who killed them."

"What, and this is all you've got to go on? It's hardly much, now, is it?" Raz asked. I had to agree. We didn't have much.

"Are you gonna help us, or not?"

"I'll ask round." Raz assured us.

"Somebody must know something about it." Sherlock said.

"Oi!" We heard from around the corner. Two community support officers came around the corner. Sherlock grabbed his phone from Raz and Raz threw the other cans on the ground. Sherlock grabbed my wrist and we ran in the opposite direction.

We rounded the corner, and I pulled my wrist from Sherlock's grasp to catch my breath. I'm not used to running. Haven't ran in an age.

We ended up getting back before John. I had taken a much needed shower and was back on the couch and my laptop, surfing the internet, doing some online shopping, while Sherlock was back at the fireplace, more photos around the mirror, now almost covering it. His head was lowered, looking at a book...I mean, not that I was staring or anything.

To be honest, I liked Sherlock. Sure, it was probably just a little crush that will go away in a week or so, and he didn't seem like a relationship kind of guy. But that didn't stop me from thinking he was gorgeous, but like I said...just a little crush.

The door slammed and I jumped a little. John walked into the living room, angry.

"You've been a while." Sherlock stated. John walked a little farther into the room, his fists clenched.

"Yeah, well, you know how it is. Custody sergeants don't like really to be hurried, do they?" He asked, and began pacing the floor, and angry half grimace, half smile on his face.

"Just formalities: fingerprints, charge sheet; and I've gotta be in Magistrates Court on Tuesday." he announced.

"What?" Sherlock asked absently, as if he hadn't heard a word John just said.

"Me, Sherlock, in court on Tuesday. They're givin' me an ASBO." He said.

"Fine, good."

"You want to tell your little pal he's welcome to go and own up anytime."

Sherlock slammed the book shut. "This symbol: I still can't place it." He put the book down, and walked over to John, who was starting to take his jacket off. He took the jacket and pulled it back on his shoulders.

"No, I need you to go to the police station…"

"Oi, oi, oi." John repeated as Sherlock steered his towards the door. I laughed at the two.

"...ask about the journalist."

"Oh, Jesus." John said, exasperated.

Sherlock grabbed his own coat. "His personal effects might have been impounded. Get ahold of his diary, or something that will tell us his movements." Sherlock turned to me. "Elizabeth, you can go with him too, if you like. Or, you can come with me." He suggested. John looked at him, eyebrows raised, when Sherlock invited me to go with him. To be honest, I was stunned myself.

"Gonna see Van Coon's P.A. If we can retrace their steps, somewhere they'll coincide." He explained.

Choosing not to see Dickmock again, I went with Sherlock to Van Coon's office.

"Flew back from Dalian Friday. Looks like he had back-to-back meetings with the sales team." Amanda, Van Coon's P.A. said.

"Can you print me up a copy?" Sherlock asked her.

"Sure."  
"What about the day he died? Can you tell me where he was?"

Amanda looked at the screen. "Sorry. Bit of a gap." She told us. "I have all his receipts."

Amanda spread out all of the receipts on her desk.

"What kind of boss was he, Amanda?" Sherlock asked. "Appreciative?"

"Um, no. That's not a word I'd use. The only things Eddie appreciated had a big price tag."

Sherlock got down on his knees, and took off his gloves to look through the receipts.

"Like that hand cream." I said, remembering seeing the same kind in the store one day, and checking the price.

"_He_ bought that for you, didn't he?" Sherlock asked her. Amanda fiddled, nervously, with a pin in her hair and looked at him in surprise. Sherlock picked up a paper: a receipt from a licensed taxi. He handed it to Amanda.

"Look at this one. Got a taxi from home on the day the died. Eighteen pounds fifty."

"That would get him to the office." She told us.

"Not rush hour; check the time. Mid-morning. Eighteen would get him as far as…"

"The West End." Amanda blurted. "I remember him saying."

Sherlock found another ticket and handed it to Amanda as well.

"Underground. Printed at one in Piccadilly."

"So he got a tube back to the office?" Amanda asked.

"Why would he get a taxi into town, and a tube back?" I asked. Sherlock was still going through the receipts when he answered.

"Because he was delivering something heavy. Didn't want to lug a package up the escalator." He explained.

"Delivering?"

"To somewhere near Piccadilly Station. Dropped the package, delivered it, and then…" he found another receipt, and stood up, looking at it. "...stopped on his way. He got peckish."

"So you bought your lunch from here en route to the station, but where were you headed _from?_" Sherlock asked to no one in particular; just talking to himself. "Where did the taxi drop you- Oof!" I heard him say. I looked over at him, to see that he had run into John, who i assumed was engrossed in Lukis' diary.

"Right." John said, looking surprised to see us there.

"Eddie Van Coon brought a package here the day he died-whatever was hidden inside that case, I've managed to piece together a picture using scraps of information…"

"Sherlock…"

"...somewhere in this street. Somewhere near. I don't know where but…"

"That shop over there." John pointed to the shop across the street. Sherlock looked to the shop, and then back to John, frowning.

"How can you tell?" He asked.

"Lukis' diary." He showed us. "He was here too. He wrote down the address." He turned and headed to the shop.

"Oh." Sherlock said, and followed him.

We walked into the small shop. Lucky cats were everywhere, but it was a, okay little shop.

"Hello." John greeted the shop keeper. She lifted a cat from the desk.

"You want lucky cat?" She asked him.

"No, thanks. No." he said.

"Ten pound. Ten pound." She said.

"No." John repeated.

"I think your wife, she will like." She pointed to me. I raised my eyebrows.

"We're not married." I told her.

"No, she's my sister." John told her. She looked to Sherlock, and then to me suggestively, and I shook my head, my eyes wide, my cheeks beginning to burn.

John walked over to a table full of small cups. I went over there as well, picking one up, and turning it over to look at the price. They were nice, and I wouldn't mind having one for decoration.

"Sherlock." I said, noticing the same symbols on the bottom of the cup that were in the bank and in the library. Sherlock came over to the table as well.

"The label there." I pointed out.

"Yes, I see it." He said.

"Exactly the same as the cipher." John said, clearing his throat awkwardly, and I put it back on the table.

Afterwards, we stopped at the restaurant across the street, and sat at a table next to the window. John grabbed a third chair for me, since there were only two at the tiny table that was almost too small for the two of them, let alone us three.

"Two men travel back from China. Both head straight for the Lucky Cat emporium. What did they see?" John asked.

"It's not what they saw." Sherlock answers. "It's what they both brought back in those suitcases.

"And you don't mean duty free."

A waitress brought our food, and I quickly grabbed a fork and dug in. John did the same.

"Think about what Sebastian told us; about Van Coon-about how he stayed afloat in the market." Sherlock told John. I must have missed that bit.

"Lost five million…" John said.

"..made it back in a week." Sherlock finished.

"Mmm."

"That's how he made such easy money." Sherlock stated. I took a shot in the dark.

"He was a smuggler." I said.

"A guy like him-it would have been perfect. Business man, making frequent trips to Asia. And Lukis was the same. A journalist writing about China."

"Mmm." John hummed.

"Both of the smuggled stuff out, and the Lucky Cat was their drop-off."

"But why did they die?" John asked. " It doesn't make sense. If they both turn up at the shop and deliver goods, why would someone threaten them and kill them after the event, after they had finished the job?"  
Sherlock sat back a thought a few moments.

_Weren't needed anymore?_

_Got into some trouble?  
Put the whole operation in jeopardy? But then why would both die?_

"What if one of them was light-fingered?" Sherlock asked. There's one I wouldn't have thought of.

"How d'you mean?" John asked. Sherlock was staring across the road.

"Remind me...when was the last time it rained?" He got up from his seat, and walked out of the restaurant, John and I doing the same.

Across the road, Sherlock was bent over a Yellow Pages, rubbing his finger over the exposed, wet pages.

"It's been here since Monday." He stated. He stood, and rang one of the door bells, waiting a couple of seconds before going to the right, and to the alleyway beside the flat.

"No one's been in that flat for three days." He said.

"Could've gone on holiday." John stated.

"Do you leave your windows open on a holiday." He looked up at something. "Elizabeth, come here." I did as he said. "Turn around."

"What am I doing?" I asked, turning away from him, so that he was behind me.

"Sherlock, seriously, what are you doing?" John asked.

"This is much easier." he said. I was about to ask what was easier, but it came out as a yelp as I was lifted into the air.

"Do you see the ladder?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah." I said, hesitantly, still unsure of what was going on.

"Grab it." He told me. I grabbed the metal bar, and I was let down, bringing the ladder down with me.

"Like I said." Sherlock said, once I was down. He had let go of my waist, and climbed onto the ladder. "Much easier. Thank you Elizabeth. Come, if you like." He said. I looked to John, whose eyes were wide, and his mouth wide open. Not thinking much about it, I followed Sherlock, thinking the ladder would stay down for John as well, but I was wrong. When I got to the top, the ladder swung back up.

I mouthed a sorry to John, who was running around to the front of the building.

"Someone else had been here." Sherlock said softly. I looked through the window, finding Sherlock putting a vase back on the table. "Somebody else broke into the flat and knocked over the vase just like I did." He moved out of the way so I could get in, and I tried to avoid the vase. I did so successfully, taking a look around the kitchen. Sherlock had ventured further into the flat, to the laundry, taking out some clothes and sniffed them, then grimaced. I made a disgusted face.

"D'you think maybe you can let me in this time?" John called from outside. Sherlock reached for a tea towel and felt it, apparently finding it dry, and moving on with me following behind him.

"Can you _not_ keep doing this, please?" John begged.

Sherlock took a pint of milk from the fridge, took the cap off and smelt it, and then put it back in the fridge.

"I'm not the first." Sherlock called out.

"What?" John asked.

"Somebody's been in here before me." He said, loudly.

"What are you saying?"

Sherlock, instead of answering, took out his magnifier and looks down. A foot had rucked up the rug, leaving an impression of a shoe.

"Size eight feet." He said, and moved on through a beaded curtain between the kitchen and living room to examine the rug closely. I just stayed behind, unsure of what to do. Maybe I should have stayed with John… but Sherlock did invite me, and, judging by John's facial expression, that didn't happen very often.

"Small...but athletic." He continued. John rang the doorbell again, but we didn't answer it. I picked up a small, framed picture of two Chinese children; a boy and girl. There were fingerprints on the glass where someone had pushed their fingers against the image of the girl. Sherlock took it, and looked at it himself.

"Small, strong hands." He said to himself, handing the picture back to me. I put it back where I found it.

"Our acrobat." I said, more as a question than a statement. Sherlock nodded.

"But why didn't he close the window when he left…" Sherlock stopped in his tracks.

"What?" I asked,

"Oh, stupid. _Stupid_. Obvious. He's still here." Sherlock answered. He walked to the decorated folding screen shielding the bed, slowly putting his hand on it, and quickly pushing it back, but nothing was there. I was about to laugh, when a hand was clamped over my mouth, and I was slung back into the wall, slamming into it hard. I fell to the ground, and I tried to get up, but I fell back on the ground, my body already a bit sore from hitting the wall, and my ankle had been twisted from the attacker spinning me around.

I heard yelling outside, more than likely John, then I heard someone fall to the ground, and I maneuvered myself the best I could to find Sherlock, a cloth wrapped around his neck, the attacker getting away.

I sat up when Sherlock did, not wanting to risk getting caught by the attacker again. Sherlock reached in his pocket and pulled out a black origami flower from his pocket, then looked down at my shoes. I did the same, finding the same flower next to my feet.

Sherlock helped me up, and I hobbled the best I could to the front door. I tried not to limp, and it didn't hurt that bad, but I knew that the next day, I would be insanely sore.

Sherlock opened the front door, and John stood there, glaring at both of us.

"The, uh, milk's gone off, and the washing's starting to smell. Somebody left here in a hurry." Sherlock said, his voice croaky.

"Somebody?" John asks.

"Soo Lin Yao. We have to find her." He answers.

"But how, exactly?"

Sherlock bent down, picking up something from the ground, and holding it up for us to see.

"Maybe we can start with this." he suggested. He had unfolded the letter, revealing, in bold, the words National Antiquities Museum printed in the bottom right corner.

He walked out of the door, and John and I followed. I wrapped my arm around John's, putting some of my weight on him because of my ankle. John patted my hands that were on his elbow, not questioning why I was holding onto him.

"You've gone all croaky." John said to Sherlock, "Are you getting a cold?" he asked.

"I'm fine."

John looked to me, and I only shrugged. If Sherlock wasn't going to tell him, then I guess he didn't want him to know.

We got to the museum, and I looked at all the displays while listening to Sherlock and John talk to one of the employees, Andy.

"When was the last time you saw her?" Sherlock asked him, pacing around the display area.

"Three days ago, um, here at the museum." He answered. "This morning they told me she had resigned just like that. Just left her work unfinished.

I focused on a glass case with clay tea pots.

"What was the last thing she did on her final afternoon?"

Andy lead us down to the basement archive and turned on the lights.

"She does this demonstration for tourists-a-a tea ceremony. So she would have packed up her things and just put them in here." He lead us to an open stack, and turned the handle to widen the gap. Sherlock wasn't interested, though. Instead he moved farther into the room, towards a statue of a woman. There was a horizontal line across her eyes and on her body was the open eight we had seen in the Lucky Cat and in the bank.

"We still have to get to Soo Lin Yao." Sherlock said once we were outside. Night had already faller, but I was feeling better, physically.

"If she's still alive." John said.

"Sherlock!" someone called out. Raz was running up to join us.

"Oh, look who it is." John said.

"Found something that you might like." Raz tells Sherlock. He walked off, and we followed.

"Tuesday morning, all you've gotta do is turn up and say the bag was yours." John told Raz, still upset about the whole situation, which, he kind of had a right to be. It was still funny, though.

"Forget about your court date." Sherlock told him.

Raz lead us across an undercroft.

"Dude, that was rad!" I heard someone yell, and I saw kids on bikes doing tricks. Not many of them, though.

"If you want to hide a tree, then a forest is the best place to do it, wouldn't you say? People would just walk straight past, not knowing, unable to decipher the message." Sherlock explained. Raz pointed to a wall.

"There. I saw it earlier." He said. I could see small bits of yellow spray paint. Some had already been painted over by tags and pictures, but parts were still visible.

"They _have _been here."

"And you're sure that's the same paint?" I asked. Raz nodded.

"Yeah." He assured me.

"John, if we're going to decipher this code, we're going to need to look for more evidence.

We split up. I went with John, not wanting to go by myself while it was dark and murders were going around killing people, and Sherlock was all by himself. Each of us had flashlights.

"So, what's this about Sherlock inviting you everywhere? Did something happen while I went to get the shopping the other day?" John asked, jokingly, raising his eyebrows.

"I have no idea." I said, laughing a little.

"Well you are smart." John complimented me. "Maybe he likes having you around."

John smiled at me, and I smiled back, not saying anything.

"Beth." John said, pointing his flashlight in another direction. I pointed my flashlight the same way, and found symbols in yellow paint covering the brick wall.

We finally tracked down Sherlock, who was looking at the side of a parked rail freight container.

"Answer your phone." John said as we approached him. "We've been calling you. We found it."

John and I stared at the wall, shocked. The symbols we had seen were now gone.

"It's been painted over." John said. "I don't understand. It-it was here...ten minutes ago. We _saw_ it. A whole load of graffiti."

"Somebody doesn't want me to see it." Sherlock said. He suddenly turned, grabbing john by the head.

"Hey, Sherlock, what are you doing…?"

"Shh, John, concentrate. I need you to concentrate. Close your eyes." Sherlock told him. I looked at the two laughing a little.

"No, what? Why? Why?"

Sherlock lowered his hands to John's upper arms.  
"What are you doing?" John asked. Sherlock started to slowly spin him, and my laughter grew.

"I need you to maximise your visual memory. Try to picture what you saw. You too Elizabeth. Can you picture it?" Sherlock asked. I nodded.

"Yeah."

"Can you remember it?" Sherlock asked, moving from John to me, putting his arms on my shoulders, but thankfully not spinning me.

"Yes. Definitely." I told him.

"Can you remember the pattern?"

"Yes!"

"How much can you remember."

"Well don't worry because…" John began, but Sherlock wasn't listening.

"Because the average human memory on visual matters is only sixty-two percent accurate."

"Well don't worry, I remember all of it." I said.

"Really?" Sherlock asked, disbelievingly.

"Well, at least she would if she could get to her pockets." John said. "She took a photograph."

I got my phone from my front pocket, opened the picture and showed it to him.

The photo had been blown up, and placed over the fireplace with the others. Things had been scribbled on them.

"Always in pairs, John." Sherlock said. I was sitting across from my brother at the dest pressed against the wall. John looked exhausted, but wouldn't sleep.

"Hmm."  
"Numbers come with partners."

John looked around the flat, blankly. "God, I need to sleep." He said, I kicked him under the table.

"Then get some sleep. You can go back to your room if you like." I said, but John refused.

"Why did he paint it so near the tracks?" Sherlock asked.

"No idea." John said, sleepily.

"Thousands of people pass by there everyday."

John propped his head on his hands. "Just twenty minutes." he mumbled. I didn't say anything this time.

"Of course." Sherlock said, triumphantly. "He wants information. He's trying to communicate with his people in the underworld. Whatever was stolen, he wants it back. Somewhere here in this code." He pulled some of the photos from the wall, and turned to the door.

"We can't crack this without Soo Lin Yao."

"Oh good!" John said, as we rose from our seats

We found Andy again in the same display room we met him in earlier that day.

"Two men who traveled back from China were murdered, and their killer left them messages in the Hangzhou numerals.

"Soo Lin Yao's in danger." John explained to Andy. "Now, that cipher-it was just the same pattern as the others. He means to kill her as well."

"Look, I've tried everywhere: um, friends, family members,colleagues. I-I don't know where she's gone. I mean, she could be a thousand miles away."

I was looking around the room again, and found my way to the teapots. something was different about the display, and Sherlock noticed it too.

"What are you looking at?" John asked.

"Tell me more about those teapots." Sherlock said, pointing to the pots.

"Th-the pots were her obsession. Um, they need urgent work. If-if they dry out, then the clay can start to crumble. Apparently you have to keep making tea in them."

Sherlock bent down to look at the teapots more closely.

"Yesterday, only one of those pots were shining. Now there are two."

I waited with John while Sherlock went to find Soo Lin, absolutely certain she was still here somewhere.

While we waiting, I fiddled with my phone, playing some dumb game I had downloaded so that I would have something to do if I ever found myself in a situation that forced me to wait a while.

Sherlock, having found who he was looking for, told John, somehow, and we joined him and Soo Lin. John and I sat on the opposite side of the table on stools, while Sherlock stands at the end of the table.

"You saw the cipher. Then you know he is coming for me." Soo Lin said.

"You've been clever to avoid him so far." Sherlock pointed out.

"I had to finish...to finish his work. It's only a matter of time. I know he will find me."

"Who is he?" Sherlock asked her. "Have you met him before?"

Soo Lin nodded. "When I was a girl, living back in China. I recognise his...'signature'."

"The cipher."

"Only he would have done this. Zhi Zhu." She told us.

"Zhi Zhu?" John asked.

"The spider."

Soo Lin put her foot on her opposite knee and unlaced her shoe, taking it off, and showing us her heel. There was a black tattoo of a lotus flower.

"You know this mark?" She asked.

"Yes. It's the mark of a Tong." Sherlock answered.

"Hmmm?"

"Ancient crime syndicate based in China."

John nodded, understanding.

"Every foot soldier bears the mark." Soo Lin explained. "Everyone who hauls for them."

"Hauls?" I asked her.

She looked up at me, and her eyes widened.

"Y-you mean you're a smuggler?" I said. She lowered her gaze, and put her shoe back on.

"I was fifteen," She began "My parents were dead.I had no livelihood; no way of surviving day to day except work for the bosses."

"Who are they?" Sherlock asked.

"They are called the Black Lotus. By the time I was sixteen, I was taking thousands of pounds' worth of drugs across the border into Hong Kong. But I managed to leave that life behind me. I came to England." She smiled a little. "They gave me a job here. Everything was good; a new life."

"Then he came looking for you."

"Yes." She swallowed before continuing, her eyes beginning to tear up a little. "I had hoped after five years they would have forgotten me, but they never really let you leave. A small community like ours-they are never very far away." She wiped a tear from her face. "He came to my flat. HE asked me to help him track down something that was stolen."

"And you've no idea what it was?" John asked.

"I refused to help."

John leaned forward. "So you knew him well when you were living in China?" He asked and she nodded her head.

"Oh, yes." She answered, looking up to Sherlock. "He's my brother. Two orphans. We had no choice. We could work for the Black Lotus, or starve on the streets like beggars. My brother has become their puppet, in the power of the one they call Shan-the Black Lotus general. I turned my brother away. He said I had betrayed him. Next day I came to work and the cipher was waiting."

I grabbed John's hand under the table and gave it a small squeeze. He squeezed my hand back.

"Can you decipher these." Sherlock asked, setting the pictures on the table. Soo Lin leaned forward, pointing to the line beside Sir William's picture.

"These are numbers." She said.

"Yes, I know."

"Here: The line across the man's eyes-it's the Chinese number one."

Sherlock pointed to the first photo. "And this one is fifteen. But what's the code?" He asked.

"All the smugglers know it. It's based upon a book…" all of the sudden the lights cut out and Soo Lin looked up, her face full of dread. I squeezed John's hand harder.

"He's here." Soo Lin said softly. "Zhi Zhu. He has found me."

Sherlock began to run out of the room.

"Sh-Sherlock. Sherlock, wait." John called, softly, but urgently. Seeing Soo Lin and I, he grabbed our hands, pulling us across the room and into another room, or possibly a cupboard, I really couldn't tell.

"Stay here, both of you." he turned to me. "Stay with her. I have to go and help. Bolt the door after me." John said, and then left. I was going to bolt the door, but Soo Lin grabbed my arm in fear. I patted her hand and stayed there in the floor with her.

A bit later, she took in a shaky breath and began to crawl from our hiding place. I was going to grab her to stop her, not wanting to risk making much noise.

"Soo Lin." I whispered, but she didn't listen. She crawled her way to the table, and stood. A man had stopped just behind her, and she turned to him, gazing at him with affection, and softly greets him by name.

"Liang." she said, and then spoke in chinese [big brother], reaching up to his face before speaking some more [Please].

I watched her, assuming it was her older brother, when he did the unthinkable.

I buried my face in my knees after hearing the gunshot, my heartbeat in my ears, and my stomach began to feel a bit queasy. I needed air, but I didn't move. I was frozen.

The door opened a few minutes later, and two hands were on my arms. I looked up, terrified, but it was only John, who immediately pulled my up from the ground. I slung my arms around him, burrowing my face into his shoulder.

**Soo, yeah. **

**That was really emotional to write, I'm not going to lie… it was much more emotional to write than to watch.**

**The words in the brackets for that part are the english translation of what Soo Lin says., which added to the pile of sadness…**

**Also there was a part with a little * I put that there for the reference that Elizabeth made to Silence of the Lambs, which you can google. I have yet to watch Silence of the Lambs, but I do know the whole thing about the leaves and things in the victims mouth, and that was the first thing I thought of when watching this scene.**

**Reviews:**

**Hello again! :)**

**Mentioning me made me tear up. I've never been mentioned before. To be honest, you deserved a great review. Your writing is imaginative, and you have worked in Elizabeth really well. She is a brilliant character, and I very much look forward to learning about her more. The Blind Banker is also one of my favourite episodes ever. I am so glad you chose to use that one.**

**Looking forward to more amazing work! Keep it up!**

**Sincerely,**

**The Supreme General**

**(Who is so flattered right now...honestly :) )**

**P.S: Just a few grammatical errors and wrong words occasionally, but this chapter was excellent. Glad to see you are so passionate to write :)**

**When I saw I had a reivew for you, I was so happy! You leave such nice comments, and your reviews had me tearing up!**

**And I always try to mention my reviewers. It's awesome and I'm absolutely stunned that someone took the time out of their day to not only read my story, but to share their thoughts with me about my writing. That just blows me away, and you deserve to be mentioned!**

**I want to thank you so, so, so much for the compliments! I had no clue how this was going to turn out, and I am so glad you are enjoying it so far!**

**And thank you for pointing out that I had grammar errors and some wrong words! I tried to go through this chapter and catch some errors, but I am using google docs, and I'm not used to it yet, so that's thrown everything off a bit with spelling and grammar. I don't know if I caught all of the errors, but I hope I caught at least most of them. And as for the wrong words, I was reading from a transcript made by another fan, but for some of this chapter, I watched the episode and paused it occasionally with subtitles, making sure I had it right. With part of it, though, I had to go back to the transcript, since I didn't have a way to watch the episode, and now I'm rambling, oh gosh…**

**Anyway, thank you so much, again, for your review! I'm glad you are enjoying it!**

**I think that's it….thanks for reading, and I'll update, hopefully soon. We've been out of school for a week and a half because of the weather, and I go back tomorrow, and I am not happy. The roads are still kind of bad…**


	4. Chapter 4 The Blind Banker Part 3

**So, we meet again!**

**I have to say, this is one of the most fun stories I have written in a long time, I think. I love writing it, and I can't wait to get into later chapters. And I'm sorry if this chapter is a little late. My cousins were over Saturday, so I didn't get as much writing done as I would have liked to. Also, I have school again (yuck) so I don't have as much time, but I'm hoping the next one will be up very soon.**

**Also, I think the next chapter just might end The Blind Banker...maybe. Like I think I said last time, I write these before I begin the chapter.**

**I will be doing all of the episodes, I think, but it's kind of hard to tell at the moment. I know, just to get away from the scripts, I will be taking stories from The Blog of John H. Watson (which actually exists, and makes me super happy) as well, which has stories that never aired. I may throw some in there of my own, but I'm not exactly sure.**

**Anyway, like always, responses to review are posted below, and some more little things in the bottom Author's Note as well.**

I was seated in a black desk chair, given to me by one of the employees at New Scotland Yard, with John's coat tightly wrapped around my shoulders.

Sherlock were going to talk to Dimmock . John tried telling me to go home, but, seeing as I've made it this far with the two, I wanted to stick around.

"Alright." John said. "But, if you want to go back, here's some money for a cab." He handed me some money, and I stuck it in my pocket with no intention of spending any of it.

I was listening, but not very well. I was still a bit shaken up by what happened at the art gallery.

Sherlock and John weren't very far away from Dicksmock, who was rummagging through paperwork on a desk. He looked like he was trying to ignore them.

"How many murders is it gonna take before you start believing this maniac's out there?" John asked him angrily. Dimmock moved to another desk, and John followed. "A young girl was gunned down tonight. My sister was there, she saw what happened. That's three victims in three days. You're supposed to be finding him." Sherlock cut in front of John, getting closer to Dimmock. John stepped away.

"Brain Lukis and Eddie Van Coon were working for a gang of international smugglers-a gang called the Black Lotus operating here in London _right_ under your nose." Sherlock leaned closer to the D.I. and Dimmock finally acknowledged him, turning to face him.

"Can you prove that?" He asked, then they were off, to God knows where. John looked at me, laughing a little, attempting to make a joke.

"And we're off...again." he added. I smiled at him, and followed him out.

We arrived at St. Bartholomew's Hospital, and Sherlock went straight for the canteen.

"I'll be back." He said, leaving us behind. We found a place to sit and wait. I peeked through the open door, finding Sherlock walking up to an employee and speaking to her. She seemed startled, but a bit happy to see him. They were standing close to each other, and I couldn't see him, but I could see her face a little, despite the distance.

She looked a bit confused, speaking to Sherlock, but then flattered, and a bit flustered, looking down at her tray. _His girlfriend probably_. I thought. She seemed to really like him.

I leaned back against the chair, the couple leaving my view.

"You okay?" John asked beside me. I nodded.

"Yeah I'm fine. Well, given the circumstances." I added. John nodded, patting my knee.

"I'm sorry." He said. "If I knew that was going to happen-if any of this was going to happen, I would have told you to wait for a while until this blew over."

"Yeah but what will your next case be like?" I asked. John nodded as he took that thought into consideration.

I sat for a while, letting silence fall over us once more, before speaking.

"I could have stopped her." I whispered, not looking at John, but at the floor between our feet.

"Beth-"

"No, John, I could have yanked her back by her arm. I should have paid more attention, then I would have noticed her getting up. I should have gotten up to bolt the door instead."

"But then he would've shot you. Listen to me Elizabeth." John said. I looked him in the eye, knowing that when he used my full name, he meant business. "None of this is your fault, okay? Even if you could have prevented her dying tonight, they would have found her again." John told me. "Van Coon and Lukis thought they were safe, and the killer showed us what he could do. Lord knows what else they've got up their sleeve." I let John's words sink in. There were thousands of things I could've said; things I wanted desperately to say. I just didn't know how to say them, and I knew some questions I may never get an answer to.

John was right, though. We don't know what this gang is capable of, and that makes it a bit scarier.

John patted my knee, and I looked up at him again. He gave me a sad smile.

No more words were exchanged. John had wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and I leaned on his shoulder, falling asleep before Sherlock got back.

I woke up in a cab, which was a bit odd, since I have no clue how I got here, or where I'm going, or if anyone else was in the cab at all.

I was leaning on someone's shoulder, I knew that much. Probably John.

But I heard talking. I heard John's voice, and it didn't sound like I was leaning against him at all. He sounded as if he was on the other side of the cab. _Who am I_-

_Oh._

I cracked an eye open, slightly, so no one would notice, if they were paying any attention, of course, and caught a glimpse of black tweed and the cabbies head.

I quickly shut it, knowing exactly who I was leaning on.

Then they spoke, and I knew. I was leaning on Sherlock Holmes.

Which, he probably didn't appreciate...at all.

I didn't want to make a big scene and jerk bad. Even if he is a high-functioning sociopath (which John was kind enough to remind me never to mistake him for a psychopath), if that happened to me, I would be a little self conscious for the rest of the day.

I stayed where I was, slowing my breathing, making it seem like I was still sleeping.

I felt the cab stop, but I kept my eyes closed, waiting for someone to 'wake me up', but nothing happened. Instead, I felt Sherlock move my head back so it was lying back on the seat instead. I waited, but I had no clue what I was waiting for. Then, someone's arm was under my knees, while another arm made its way behinds me, picking me up from the cab seat, and carrying my out into the cold, London air.

I peeked another look, but when I cracked open my eye, I was met with Sherlock's face not to far from mine, and I quickly closed it for the second time. I would have guessed he didn't get this either, but, judging by his facial expression, he didn't seem upset in the slightest. But, he was talking to John just a few moments before.

We-well they- walked into 221b, and my coat was taken off and I was laid on the couch, my back facing the rest of the room. Someone drapped a throw blanket over me, tuking it to my chin the best that they could, before tucking the rest of the blanket in around my body, and i drifted back to sleep.

I woke up to the sound of something heavy hitting the floor. I looked around, finding police officers with crates flooding the flat, setting the crates on the ground.

"So the numbers are references." Sherlock stated.

"To books." John said.

"To specific pages and specific words on those pages." Sherlock clarified.

"Right...so fifteen and one:that means…"

"Turn to page fifteen and it's the first word you read."  
"So what's the message?"

"Depends on the book. That's the cunning of the book code." He said snarkily. "Has to be one they both owned."

John looked around at the books and I found myself doing the same. There were a lot.

"Okay, right." John said. "Well this shouldn't take too long, should it?" He went to the nearest crate, flipped open the lid. Sherlock did the same, and looked over to me.

"Ah, Elizabeth. You're awake." He said

"Well, yeah, I think I am." I joked. John laughed slightly.

"You can come and help us. You know what we're looking for."

John looked over at me immediately. "You can help if you want to." I nodded and stood up slowly, walking to a crate, and grabbing some books, and walking back to the couch, looking through them.

"We found these at the museum." I heard Dimmock say. I looked up to find him holding out a plastic bag with a picture of the graffiti inside. "Is this your writing?" He asked. I grabbed the bottom, folding it a little. I shook my head. It was a female's writing, but not mine. I took the bag.

"We were hoping Soo Lin could decipher it for us." John butted in from the desk.

"Ta." Dimmock said, looking to me a little disappointed. He walked back into the middle of the room and John eyed him, obviously seeing something I didn't.  
"Anything else I can do? To assist you, I mean?" Dimmock asked.

"Some silence right now would be marvellous." Sherlock said without looking up. Dimmock looked at John, then to me. We both shook our heads at him, apologetically. Dimmock bite his lip and looked to me, joining me on the couch.

"So." He said. I looked up from my book.

"So." I repeated, smiling a little. He laughed slightly.

"How long have you been in London?"

"Not long." I replied, looking back to the stack of books. "A few days." He nodded, looking down at his shoed. His elbows here on his knees and his hands were clasped in front of him.

"Do you need any help?" He asked me. I shook my head.

"No, I think I can manage." I looked at him. "But thank you." I smiled. He mimicked me.

"No problem. A beautiful lady like yourself, I wouldn't even allow you to lift a finger." he flirted. I blushed, against my will, and looked back at the books. I could feel John's eyes watching us.

"Well, I chose to do this, so…" I trailed off. He nodded, understanding, and then it was silent again.

"Listen," he started. "I was wondering if later, maybe, I don't know, this weekend sometime, you would like to go get a drink with me." He asked, nervously. I smiled.

"Dimmock, you seem like an okay guy." I told him. He smiled widely. "But I don't think that would be very appropriate, right now at least, with the case and all. Maybe some other time. Sorry." I apologized. He shook his head.

"No it's fine, I completely understand." he grinned at me and rose from the couch.

"Well if you don't need anything else, I think I will be on my way."

"I think that would be best, yeah." John said. Dimmock looked at him before leaving.

"Cigarette." Sherlock said after some time. He slammed two versions of the same book on the desk where John was sitting.

After a while, I began to get tired again.

"Imagine." Sherlock blurted, putting more books on the desk. John, though, looked extremely tired.

"John, why don't you go get some sleep." I said. "You can sleep in your old room." John shook his head.

"No, Beth, I'm fine." He smiled at me. I smiled back.

"Okay. Whatever you say."

I ended up laying back down, the blanket back over me, and a crate of books beside me. I tried to keep my eyes open, but to no avail.

I opened my eyes and John was gone. The sun was streaming in through the windows, hitting my eyes. I squinted and rose from the couch. Sherlock was searching his bookshelf.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" I asked him.

"Umm, no." he said. I shook my head at him.

"A book that everyone would own." He mumbled, not talking to me. I walked into the kitchen as he yanked a book off of the shelf as I pulled some cereal out of the cabinet, looking at the time. I had slept all afternoon, and John would be home soon.

I was right. John was home as soon as I had finished my cereal, and went into the bathroom to change into some clean clothes. I sat in the chair opposite Sherlock's, and John came back, ruffling my hair as he passed. I swatted his hand away, trying to make it seem like I was mad at him, but I failed and laughed a little. He smiled.

Sherlock hadn't stopped looking through books since I woke up, but now his elbows were on a crate, and he ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling it a bit.

"I need some air." He told us. "We're going out tonight."

"Actually, I've, er, got a date." John announced, smiling. I looked up at him and smiled, ready to ask about her, but Sherlock beat me.

"What?"

"It's where two people who like each other go out and have fun." John told him.

"That's what _I_ was suggesting." Sherlock argued. I giggled.

"No it wasn't...at least I hope not." John said.

"Where are you taking her?" I asked my brother.

"Er, cinema."

"Oh, dull, boring, predictable." Sherlock reached into his pocket and pulled out a paper, handing it to John. "Why don't you try this? In London for one night only." John chuckled and handed it back to Sherlock.

"Thanks, but I don't come to you for dating advice."

John had left for his date with Sarah who, sadly, I didn't get to meet.

I changed into some PJ's and grabbed some movies from my small movie library, and sat myself on my bed, putting the first DVD in. I had grabbed some snacks and brought them up with me, setting them on the bedside table.

I sat with my back against the wall, my knees to my chest, and pulling the blanket to my chin with some cookies in front of me, waiting for Lord of the Rings to begin.

I had just clocked 'play' when someone knocked on my door.

"Come in!" I yelled. Sherlock walked into the dark room. I couldn't see anything, just the outline of my tall friend...if we were even friends. I had no clue.

"What are you doing?" He asked, looking from my to the television, then back to me.

"Watching a movie."

"Not anymore. We have plans." He stated, turning the DVD player off, and turning the lights on. I blinked as the harsh light blinded me momentarily.

"Umm, ow." I said. When I could finally see, I looked at Sherlock, who was looking at me confused, as if the light shouldn't have fazed me, and he had no idea what I was doing. :what plans?" I asked.

"We're going on a date." He smiled. I didn't.

"A date?" I asked. He confirmed.

"Yes, a date."

"Just like John and Sara?" I asked.

"Is that her name?" I sighed. "I suppose. Come on, We'll be late."

I groaned, pushing the blankets off my legs, and going to my closet.

**Sorry this one was kind of short. My mom has had homework, and I've had homework and life's been a real mess lately.**

**On a good note, I might be getting out of school again, so more writing will get done much sooner, but, of course, nothing is set in stone. I still have to wait and see if it was actually snow.**

**Which could be a bad thing, being snowed in, but I'm trying to be positive.**

**REVIEWS:**

**Hi!**

**Another great chapter! Your pace is amazing, and you are evidently very passionate about writing this! It is so great to read such a great fic, and I am loving Elizabeth more and more with each chapter. She is easy to relate to, funny, and I am adoring her! I got emotional reading this chapter, and I know how much it must have been emotional to write too. Putting it in words, and seeing the reaction from someone there witnessing it adds another depth to it, and I love that.  
Not as many errors in this one. It is only simple mistakes, such as missing a closing quotation mark, but this still is a great read.**

**Good luck with your writing, and I am really looking forward to the next chapter! You have yourself a fan! :)**

**Sincerely,  
The Supreme General**

**Thank you again for your review! You always say such nice things and you truly make my day. I'm glad you like Elizabeth and my story so far, and I hope this chapters just as good as the others (even though it is a bit short . And thank you again for pointing out my mistakes. I will try to fix those, and I'm glad to hear that there weren't as many in the last chapter.**

**:)**

**I love your story :), though I have to agree that this episode was a bit more sad. I'm really looking forward to your next update! Good luck in your writing! :)**

**Aranel Silvertongue**

**Thank you for the review and I'm so glad that you were enjoying it. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well! :)**

**And I think that's it. The next chapter should be up very soon, and I am very excited to write it! Catch you later!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hola! **

**I really don't have much to say here other than enjoy the chapter, and I got the rest of the week off from school (whoop whoop! Thank you snow! A blessing and a curse!) So I'm going to be getting a lot more done. It won't be as long as chapter 3, which could have easily been split in two, but hopefully it will be longer than the more recent ones.**

**Since this will be one of the ending chapter for The Blind Banker, here is a link to the transcript I used: **** . ** **(this is the fourth part, by the way, but there is a hyperlink on the page to the first, second, and third towards the top.**

**Anyway, here you are!**

"Why are we going on a date? You hardly even know me." I said. He finished buttoning his jacket and turned around to face me.

"I know you're John's younger sister. I know that you and Harry are very close, but you don't like her drinking either, which is why you're living with John. I know you're here to get away from your fiance, who left you for another woman, and you also quite your job because of it.

"I also know that you have an odd taste in music, judging by your top played songs on your iPod; everything from 60's love songs, 80's classic rock, choral music, to scores. The scores say you love television shows and movies. Fantasy, I would say, judging that most of the scores are from things like The Hobbit to Game of Thrones. You are also a believer in moral decline, which your music choices has also told me. You dislike pop stars and popular music today, and almost cringe when they are mentioned on telly. You like history and are quite creative. You can look at something and where someone would only see one thing, you see everything. Take a rose. Some see a rose, where as you see the dew about to fall from its petals, and you can create a lyric about it."  
"How do you know all of this?" I asked. He raised his eyebrows, and I hadn't realized how close he had gotten. I was amazed at how right he was.

"You have hundreds of records stacked against your wall beside a record player, yes?"

I nodded.

"It's horrid." He said. I was taken aback.

"What?"  
"That's what a lot of people believe. It's horrid. Having records and a record player isn't practical, no one has one, you can't buy many records anymore, you can't move it easily, the music doesn't sound as clear. The list goes on and on. But you," he pointed to me. "you don't believe that. You see the history in it. The music is still good. It has a story, and that's important to you. You don't care if it's practical or not. Sometimes you need the cracks and pop in the music. The music seems more…" He paused, i assumed he was looking for the word.

"Alive." I finished. He looked at me, wide eyed.

"Yes, exactly. Alive." He smiled a rare smile, before grabbing his coat. "And you absolutely love it."

I smiled at him, retrieving my coat from the couch as well.

"And how did you get my iPod?"

"It was in your coat pocket. When I took your coat off while you were asleep, I found it and looked at it. I don't mind, do you?"

"I don't care at all, I was just wondering."

"A lot of it, your brother told me. Like about your fiance."  
"And Harry? You're right, you know. I'm closer to Harry than John is, but I don't like her drinking."  
"Your email was up on John's laptop while yours was at the shop. Harry is one of your top contacts, and who likes it when their sibling is an alcoholic?" He looked at me while he fixed his scarf. "Come along, Watson." he said suddenly, storming down the stairs. I followed and he was already calling a cab when I got outside.

"Why 'Elizabeth?'" I suddenly asked when we were in the cab. He looked at me.

"What do you mean. Ask your mother." He looked back out the window.

"No. Why do you call me Elizabeth. I've told you, it's just Beth." He was silent for a moment before speaking.

"Elizabeth' it has many meanings and a lot of character. Beth is plain, dull, boring. It doesn't suit you like Elizabeth does. Why Beth?"  
"Elizabeth is a mouthful. It's so long and sometimes hard to say. Beth is simple."

"Exactly why I don't like it. Elizabeth is much better. Trust me. Keep it."

We arrived at our destination, and red lanterns were everywhere, obviously Chinese, then.

"What is this place?"

"Yellow Dragon Circus." He said.

"Isn't John going to be here with Sarah?" I asked. He nodded.

"If all goes to plan, yes."  
"Plan. So this isn't a date?" I asked. He contemplated it.

"You can consider it one, if you so desire."

My eyes went wide, but then back to normal quickly. I didn't know what to say to that. Being honest and saying _Uh, yeah I want this to be a date!_ would be awkward. Even admitting that a little part of me wants this to be a date would be a bit weird. But he would catch me if I was lying, I was sure of it, then I would look like an even bigger idiot for trying to fool him!

I saw John and Sarah, who was actually really pretty, and we came up beside them.

"And then I phoned back and got two more." John looked up at him in disbelief, obviously not seeing me. Sherlock offered his hand to Sarah.

"I'm Sherlock." He announced. Sarah shook his hand, and he turned to me. "And this is Elizabeth Watson." I extended my hand also, and she took it. John, finally seeing me, had his eyebrows almost up to his hairline.

"Er, hi." She said.

"Hello."

John, Sherlock and I had stopped on the stairs waiting for Sarah.

"What are you doing here?" John asked.

"We're on a date." Sherlock said. John's face was priceless. He reached behind Sherlock, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me behind him.

"Oh no, you're not. Not with my sister." John said and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"And why not?"

"You couldn't let me have just one night off?" John asked.

"Yellow Dragon Circus, in London for one day. It fits The Tong sent an assassin to England..." Sherlock explained.

"...dressed as a tightrope walker. Come on Sherlock, behave!"

"We're looking for a killer that can climb, who can shin up a rope. Where else would you find that level of dexterity? Exit visas are scarce in China. They need a pretty good reason to get out of that country. Now, all I need to do is have a quick look round the place…" he trailed off

"And you." John looked to me. "Did you know you were going to be here?" John asked.

"No." I answered honestly. "I was having a movie marathon when Sherlock said we were going on a date."

John paused. "And you came? You, upon hearing that you were going on a date with Sherlock Holmes, got up, got dressed, and actually came?" He asked. I shrugged in reply.

"Fine. You carry on with your plan, I'm taking Beth home, and Sarah for a pint."

"Elizabeth." I said, at the same time Sherlock said 'I need your help.' John, though, looked to me, and Sherlock did the same, a smirk on his lips. John was surprised.

"I thought you liked Beth?" He asked. I shrugged a shoulder.

"It's plain, dull, boring." I said, quoting Sherlock, causing him to smirk more. John only looked between us.

"You're starting to sound like him." He mumbled.

"I need your help." Sherlock repeated. John was still incredibly upset.

"I do have a couple other things on my mind this evening!" He said.

"Like what?"

"You are kidding." John said in disbelief.

"What's so important?"

"Sherlock, I'm right in the middle of a date."  
"So am I." Sherlock said.

"Um, no you're not."

"Yes I am. With Elizabeth...my date."

"You are not on a date with Elizabeth, okay. Either way, d'you want me to chase some killer while I'm trying to…"

"What?" I asked. John was losing his patience.

"...while I'm trying to get off with Sarah." He said, much louder. Sarah chose that time to come around the corner, and I held back a laugh.

"Heyy." John said, smiling awkwardly at her. Sherlock rolled his eyes and reached around the couple, grabbing my hand, and pulling me up the stairs.

In the large room, there is a stage, but the curtains were drawn. It wouldn't be used. Instead, there was a rather large circle of candles in the middle of it. There were no seats and hardly any people.

"You said circus." John complained. "Look at the size of this crowd. Sherlock, this is...art." he said with distaste.

"This isn't their day job." He mumbled.

"No, sorry, I forgot, they're not a circus, they're a gang of international smugglers." John said, low enough Sarah couldn't hear. I had stayed behind them with Sherlock, though Sarah was just a bit taller than I, making seeing everything a bit harder, but not impossible. John, knowing that it was my choice to stay behind them, looked at me with a mix of emotions that I couldn't make out. He looked a bit upset, but we crashed his date. I would be a little upset too, but also uncertain, though, I wasn't sure what of.

I heard a drum beat and a woman came to stand in the middle of the circle, her face painted-traditionally known as the Opera Singer- and pulled a sheet, revealing what seemed to be a very ornately designed crossbow. She retrieved a long, wooden arrow, showed the crowd, and then set it on the crossbow, and plucking a feather from her hat.

She placed it in a bowl at the back of the crossbow, and the arrow flew to a wooden board a few yards away.

My hand lashed out and grabbed Sherlock's arm in surprise. After a few seconds, he patted my hand, and I realized it had been there longer than it needed to be, and I removed it. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw Sherlock look at me, and then back to the circle. John and Sarah were still gasping, and Sarah looked to John, putting a hand to her heart.

Music begins and a man wearing a face mask and chainmail enters the circle. The rest of the audience applause and the man put out his arms. Other men came and wrapped him in heavy looking chains, and backed him up against the board, strapping him to that as well.

"Classic Chinese escapology act." Sherlock said, softly. I leaned my head closer to him to hear better. John and Sarah also turned to him. "The crossbow's on a delicate string. The warrior has to escape his bonds before it fires." He explained. I nodded, understanding while she loaded another arrow into the crossbow and the men attack more padlocks, pulling the chains, the man chained to the board yelling out. After they had finished, they stepped back, and cymbals crashed, my hand reaching out again out of reflex, latching onto Sherlock's arm. Sarah had jumped as well, and was now latched to John's arm.

"Oh, God! I'm sorry!" She said. She let go of him with her other hand, but left one around his arm. I didn't remove my hand either, deciding it might be best than hitting him if the performance keeps going like this.

"She splits the sandbag, the sand pours out, gradually the weight lowers into the bowl." Sherlock told us, and he was right. She showed us a knife, and cut a sandbag above her head, letting the sand fall out while a large weight was slowly being lowered. The escapologist was struggling to get out of his bonds, but looked like he was making progress. I could have been wrong, though I really hoped I wasn't. That was the thing that always terrified me. Usually, they escape, and they're fine. Only on some rare occasions do you ever hear of one failing. I was afraid I would witness one of those rare occasions. That's why I avoided these kinds of things if at all possible.

But I was there, clutching Sherlock's arm for dear life, praying that he would escape. I watched the weight come dangerously close to the bowl.

"Your breathing won't affect it. You need oxygen, you know." Sherlock whispered in my ear. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, and Sherlock smirked, patting my hand, but this time, leaving his over mine, briefly, but then took it away, as if that wasn't right, as if he shouldn't have done that.

But, I mean, I had no problem with his hand being there…

The weight hit the bowl, and i closed my eyes, bowed my head, and squeezed Sherlock's arm to death, and I heard the escapologist cry out. I stayed like that until everyone applauded. I opened one eye, and then the other, looking to the circle to find the escapologist alive and well in the middle. I clapped along with the crowd, taking my hand from Sherlock's arm.

The escapologist stood in the middle of the circle and the audience was still applauding.

"Thank God."

"My God!" I heard John and Sarah explain. I looked to Sherlock, but he was gone.

"Where did your date go?" I heard Sarah ask me. I looked to her and John, unsure of where he was. He vanished. I didn't hear him, nor see him. He just disappeared, like the Opera Ghost*.

"No, no, he's not her date. They are not on a date. They are not a couple. You are not on a date." John said to Sarah, and then to me, pointing at us as he spoke. Sarah and I laughed a little.

"Ladies and gentlemen, for the distant, moonlight shores of the Yangtze River, we present for your pleasure the deadly Chinese bird-spider."

It suddenly dawned on me that they weren't actually talking about a real spider when a man spun down from the ceiling on a red cloth.

"Did you see that?" John asked Sarah, most likely.

He ran around the circle, before going up into the air again. I watched in awe until the curtain began to move in one place. John catches it too, but only for a moment as his attention is turned back to the acrobat. I was just about to turn my attention back to the acrobat as well, when Sherlock was propelled backwards off of the stage, and landed on his back. He didn't move much as someone else came onto the floor and landed in front of him. John sprung into action while Sarah and I stood back. John ran into Sherlock's attacker, pushed him back, but the warrior sent John stumbling across the room.

The audience had fled and the acrobat removed his mask. Sarah ran towards the fight, while I stayed where I was, unsure of what to do. She grabbed one of the arrows and hit the warrior over the head, knocking him out cold while John and Sherlock got up. Sherlock ripped off the warrior's shoe, looked at his foot, and then slammed it on the ground, rising. John grabbed Sarah's hand, and they ran towards the exit, with me following.

Dimmock stormed in, obviously not in a great mood.

"I sent a couple cars. The old hall is totally deserted." He said.

"Look, I saw the mark at the circus-that tattoo that we saw on the two bodies: the mark of the Tong." Sherlock told him.

"Lukis and Van Coon were part of a smuggling operation. Now, one of them have stolen something when they were in China; something valuable." John said.

"These circus performers were gang members sent her to get it back." Sherlock said.

"Get what back?" asked Dimmock.

I bit my lip.  
"We don't know." John said hesitantly/

"You don't know? Mr. Holmes…" He sat down at his desk. "I've done everything you've asked. Lestrade, he seems to think your advice is worth something." Sherlock gave a faint smile, proud. "I gave the order for a raid. Please tell me I'll have something to show for it other than a massive bill for overtime."

Back at 221b, in the living room, Sherlock immediately went over to the fireplace, staring at the pictures above it. I plopped down on the couch.

"They'll be back in China by tomorrow." John announced.

"No, they won't leave without what they came for. We need to find their hideout; the rendezvous. Somewhere in this message it must tell us."

Sarah, almost forgotten by the other two, spoke up. "Well, I think perhaps I should leave you to it." She said.

"You don't have to go, you can stay if you wish. "I said at the exact same time as Sherlock and John started speaking.

"No, no you don't have to go" John looked at Sherlock. "Does she? You can stay."

"Yes it would be better to study if you left now." Sherlock was looking at her.

"He's kidding. Please stay if you'd like." John said to her. Sherlock had turned back to the photos and Sarah looked to me. I smiled at her, and she grinned back before looking at Sherlock again.

"Is it just me, or is anyone else starving?" She asked, trying to be friendly. I remarked that I was a bit hungry myself, while Sherlock sighed.

"Ooh God."

I got up to help John look for something edible. The fridge was already bare, and so were the cabinets.

"So this is what you guys do? You, John, and Elizabeth. You solve puzzles for a living." I heard Sarah say in the living room.

"Consulting detective." Sherlock corrected, sounding like he was trying very hard not to kill her.

"Oh."

John, who was looking through the cabinets, grabbed a jar and twisted the lid, then smelt the contents.

"Oh." he said, recoiling at the smell, and making a face. I laughed at him and he looked back at me, thrusting the jar me way, causing me to get a whiff.

"Yuck." I gagged and he put it back in the cabinet, and continued.

"What are these squiggles?" Sarah asked, looking over Sherlock's shoulder.

"They're numbers." He said "An ancient Chinese dialect."

"Oh, right. Yeah,well, of course, I should have known that!" She said, and I laughed out loud a little at her sarcasm. She turned to me, and smiled, laughing a little herself, before turning back to the pictures on the desk.

"Ooh-ooh." I heard, and I turned to find Mrs. Hudson coming through the door, a tray in her hands. "I've done punch, and a bowl of nibbles." She removed the towel.

"Mrs. Hudson, you are a saint." John whispered.

"If it was Monday, I'd have been to the supermarket." She whispered.

"No; thank you! Thank you!" John said.

"Hello dear." Mrs. Hudson smiled and turned to me. I smiled back at her.

"Hello Mrs. Hudson." I greeted as she passed by, patting my arm before going back downstairs again.

"So, these numbers-it's a cipher." Sarah said.

"Exactly." Sherlock replied, obviously extremely upset.

"And each pair of numbers is a word."

I stopped and looked at her. Sherlock did the same.

"How did you know that?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, two words have already been translated, here." She pointed to one of the pictures. Sherlock rose from the chair.

"John." Sherlock called.

"Hmm?" John said, turning from the kitchen table.

"John, look at this." Sherlock said, standing up. John and I came out of the kitchen while Sherlock took the pictures out of the bag.

"Soo Lin at the museum-she started to translate the code for us. We didn't see it!" I looked over his shoulder, and he was right. Written on the picture over the cipher were words.

"'Nine' 'Mill'" Sherlock read out loud.

"Millions?" I guessed.

"Nine million quid. For what?" Sherlock asked. "We need to know the end of this sentence." Sherlock said, grabbing his coat and scarf.

"Where are you going?" John asked.

"To the museum; to the restoration room." He answered. "Oh, we must have been staring right at it."

"At-at what?"

"The _book_, Watsons. The _book_\- the key to cracking the cipher! He showed the photo to John and I. "Soo Lin used it to do this! Whilst we were running around the gallery, she started to translate the code. it must be on her desk."

John looked to me. "You stayed with her? How did you not know?" He asked. I Raised both of my brows and put my hands up.

"To be honest, I really don't remember much from that night, and what I do remember, I want to forget. And my head was between my knees most of the time, more than likely." I stated, looking down at my shoes.

Sherlock ran out of the door, and I was stuck between following and leaving John with his date, or going up to my room and finishing my marathon.

Sherlock's a big boy. He can do this on his own...right?

"It was nice to meet you." I said to Sarah. She looked at me, smiled, and nodded slightly.

"And you." She replied. I gave John a quick smile, before running up to my room, turning on the DVD player as I made my way to my pajamas, which were carelessly discarded on the floor, and turned out the light.

I snuggled down into the covers, grabbing a chip from the bag beside me, which I didn't take to the kitchen, and pressed play…

And someone knocked on the door.

"Come in." I yelled, and John opened the door.

"Hey, we're getting a takeaway. Is that alright with you?" He asked. I nodded.

"Yeah, that's fine." I said.

"Do you want to eat with us, or…" John trailed off.

"This is your date...still...kind of." I replied. He took that as a 'no'.

"Sure?" He said. I nodded. "Alright then. See you later." John smiled, closed the door, and went back downstairs.

A few minutes later, I heard someone knock on door, and John's muffled voice as he made his way down the stairs to the door. I had stopped eating my chips, and I was starving. I didn't think that it might have taken them longer, I was just worried about how long it would take John to get to my room.

I heard some commotion downstairs, but I assumed it was John and Sarah getting everything ready to eat; moving things on the table, and getting plates, but I also heard voices that didn't belong to either of the two, nor did they belong to Sherlock.

I paused my movie to hear better, and I heard someone coming for my room. Acting out of instinct, I grabbed a large book and placed myself against the wall beside my door.

I waited, but I didn't have to wait long before someone slowly opened the door, peering inside, before coming all the way in. Luckily, they didn't see me, so I snuck up behind them, hoisting the books up over my head, and slammed it into the back of his as hard as I could. It didn't do much damage, but it knocked them off balance for a little bit.

I tried to hit them again, but they regained their balance, and grabbed my arm, twisting it behind me. I used my free arm to try to grab for something else-anything else- and I tried to kick them, but something hard connected with the side of my head, and everything went dark.

I woke up strapped to a chair, and heard the faint crackling of a fire. Opening my eyes, I saw where I was, but it didn't know where exactly. I guessed somewhere underground, but I wasn't sure. All I knew, was that it was very dim, and I wasn't alone.

I looked over to see John, who was also regaining consciousness, look around to me, his left temple bleeding. He looked at me with an apologetic expression.

"A book is a magic garden in your pocket." someone said. I looked around, wincing as I did so, to find the woman from the 'circus' standing in front of him. John looked over and I followed his gaze to find Sarah beside him, a gag in her mouth. She looked absolutely terrified.

The woman walked towards John, two men standing behind her.

"Chinese proverb, Mr. Holmes." She told John.

"I...I'm not Sherlock Holmes." John tried to tell her. She smiled.

"Forgive me if I do not take your word for it." She said, reaching into his pocket of his jacket.

"Ow. Ow." John said, obviously in a lot of pain. I wanted to do something-scream at her was at the top of the list, knowing I probably couldn't do any physical damage, but I held my tongue, which was when I discovered a gag was around my mouth as well. I looked back to Sarah, who looked at me, her eyes wide.

The woman took out a wallet, and looked into it, taking out a debit card.

"Debit card, name of S. Holmes." She read out loud, proudly.

"Yeah, that's not actually mine." John said. "He lent that to me." She ignored him, reaching into his wallet again, pulling out a piece of paper.

"A check for five thousand pounds made out in the name of Sherlock Holmes."

"Yeah he gave me that to look after." John said. Again, she ignored him and continued looking.

"Tickets from the theater, collected by you, name of Holmes."

"Yes, okay… I realize what this looks like, but I'm not him."

"We heard it from your own mouth. 'I am Sherlock Holmes and I always work alone.'"

"Did I really say that?" John asked. "I s'pose there's no use in me trying to persuade you I was doing an impression." John said. The woman smiled, taking out a small pistol and pointing it to John.

I am Shan." She announced. John looked up at her.

"You-you're Shan."

"Three times we tried to kill you and your companions, Mr. Holmes. What does that tell you when an assassin cannot shoot straight?" She asked. She cocked the pistol, and John struggled against his bonds, begging her not to shoot him. She pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. I let out a large breath, relieved.  
"It tells you that they're not really trying." She said.

**So, here it is.**

**Sorry it took so long. I feel bad because I haven't been busy. If I was, maybe I wouldn't be so upset that it took me a bit longer than planned, but it was just pure laziness, and a lot of reading…**

**Lately, I have had an obsession with dragons...and my favorite dragon is Smaug from The Hobbit (which is amazing, by the way, for anyone who hasn't seen it!), and so, when I saw a fanfiction concerning Smaug, I geeked out, and I am already on the second book and I started the first one two days ago, and didn't get ANY writing done. *looks down at shoes* Oops…**

**So the majority of this chapter was written in, like, an hour, before I go to my dads for the weekend, and maybe longer, meaning there is a small chance that I will post another chapter.**

**Anyway, again, sorry it was so late, and I PROMISE I will respond to ALL of the reviews in the next chapter. I don't have time right now, but I promise I will respond to every single one of you l**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello!**

**So, I didn't get much writing done over the weekend, and I didn't get as many days off as I thought I would, so I'm sorry if this is a little late...**

**Also, again, I apologize for not answering reviews in the last chapter. LIke I said, every review I have not answered, will be answered here, in the bottom AN along with some other little things as well, that aren't really important, but I felt the need to share, as i always do.**

**I couldn't decide here. This was a very hard decision for me,( There are some spoilers here for the chapter, but they are a little vague!) who was going to be placed in front of the crossbow between the two ladies. I did not want to stray too far from the episode, but I also didn't want it to seem as if they had just forgotten about John's sister, which would be a weak spot for him...so, I hope what I've done was okay, and if not, I can easily go back and change it without messing up anything major at all! I want to make everyone happy, and I want everyone to enjoy reading this, but I was at a fork in the road, and needed to make a decision, with the reasons mentioned above in mind, and like I said, if you dislike it, please tell me, and I can fix it.**

**So, anyway, here it is! Hope you enjoy!**

"If we wanted to kill you, Mr. Holmes, we would have done it by now." Shan said. "We just wanted to make you inquisitive." She explained. She looked at him. "Do you have it?"

"Do I have what?" John asked her.

"The treasure."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I would prefer to make certain." She looked at one of the men, who took the cover off of a large object, revealing it to be the crossbow we had seen at the circus, an arrow, it seemed, was already loaded.

"Everything in the West has a price, and the price for her life: Information."

I looked to Sarah again, and we stared at each other wide-eyed, knowing that it had to be either one of us she was referring too. I felt my heart racing, listening to it beat in my ears, and I couldn't breath.

I looked to John, who was looking at me, mouthing 'I'm sorry' over and over again, before I felt my chair raise from the ground, and I was being carried towards the crossbow.

I squirmed in my chair, and struggled against my bonds, hoping that they would lose their grasp and drop me, giving me some time, maybe, but it was no use. They were twice my size, and weren't going to give up easily.

"Where is the hairpin?" Shan asked my brother.

"what?" John asked. he too was struggling to get out of his bonds and Shan still had her pistol, which was now loaded, pointed at him.

"The Empress pin valued at nine million sterling. We already had a buyer in the West; then one of our people were greedy. He took it, brought it back to London, and you, MR. Holmes, have been searching."Please, please listen to me. I'm not...I'm not Sherlock Holmes. You have to believe me. I haven't found whatever it is you're looking for." john begged, but she did not listen.

"I need a volunteer from the audience." She said loudly, then looked to me. I was crying out through my gag.

"No. please. Please." John said from behind her.

"Ah, thank you, lady. You'll do very nicely." She smiled, took out a knife, and cut a hole through a sandbag. I cried out louder than before, hoping someone would hear me.

"Ladies and gentlemen, from the distant moonlight shores of NW1, we present for your pleasure, Sherlock Holmes', pretty companion in a death-defying act." She said. My arms were beginning to get tired, and so were my legs, but i kept struggling and screaming.

Shan walked over and placed a black origami my knee. "You've seen the act before, how dull for you. You know how it ends." through my struggling and yelling, I managed to glare at her.

"I'm not Sherlock Holmes!" John yelled, frantically.

"II do not believe you."

"You really should, you know." I heard a voice behind me. John and I looked at each other. I could see the relief on his face, but he was still panicking, as was I, but if John trusted Sherlock, I did too.

"Sherlock Holmes is nothing at all like him? How would you describe me, John?" Shan was aiming her pistol at the tunnel. "Resourceful? Dynamic, Enigmatic?"

"Late." John mumbled.

"That's a semi-automatic. If you fire it, the bullet will travel at over a thousand meters per second."

"Well?" Shan asked, still aiming her gun.

"Well..." Sherlock copied,, and I heard a large ban from behind me, causing me to jump and look at the sandbag, my heart beginning to race again, faster. if the crossbow doesn't kill me first, a heart attack will.

I heard a man grunt, and then Sherlock speaking again. "The radius curvature of these walls is nearly four meters. If you miss, the bullet will ricochet. Could hit anyone. Might even bounce off the tunnel and hit you." I heard another crash, and the tunnel went dark., making it almost impossible to see. I heard someone behind me, as they grabbed for the ropes around my wrists, untying them, but they were interrupted. I looked back behind me that best I could, and saw Sherlock with Liang, Soo Lin's brother, on the ground, Liang had a rope around Sherlock's neck, and I wanted to help, but I couldn't. I looked back over to the crossbow and then to the sandbag.

John had tried to stand up and walk towards the crossbow, but he didn't make it. He fell over on his side, and couldn't get back up. I stared back up at the weight, which was coming close to the metal bowl to release the arrow.

John was moving around in my peripheral vision, but I was more focused on the crossbow, which would fire in mere seconds. I felt my eyes begin to burn, and a tear run down my face, and it wasn't the last. I had stopped screaming and thrashing, knowing it was all in vain, and waited...

but nothing happened. John had gotten his foot free enough to kick the crossbow in another direction as soon as the weight hit the bowl. The arrow flew by me and hit Liang, who grunted, and fell to the ground.

I took deep breaths to calm myself, but I was still crying, almost uncontrollably, the gag muffling my sobs. I heard footsteps, but I had no clue what was going on. I was just glad to be alive.

"It's alright." I heard Sherlock say behind me soothingly. He untied my gag. "You're going to be all right. It's over now." Sherlock said, rubbing his hands up and down my arms, comforting me, which was working. Only a few tears fell every now and then, now, and I could breath a little better.

"Don't worry." I heard John say. I looked up at him, and he was looking to Sarah. "Next date won't be like this."looking at her closely, I could tell I wasn't the only one crying, as she was almost as terrified as I was.

Sherlock finished untying me and stood, placing a hand on my shoulder.

John then looked my way, looking between Sherlock and me, and he smiled, but it was hardly noticeable.

The police had arrived shortly after, and we met Dimmock outside the tunnels. I was given a blanket, and so was Sarah, who was walking in front with John, who wrapped his arm around her shoulders while I hung back with Sherlock. I stopped with him, while the couple went on.

"We'll just slip off. No need to mention us in your report." Sherlock tells the D.I.

" ..."Dimmock started, but Sherlock cut him off.

"I have high hopes for you, Inspector. A glittering career." Sherlock tells him.

"I go wherever you point me."

"Exactly." Sherlock said, walking away. He touched the back of my arm, gently pushing me along with him.

"You alright?" I heard someone ask, my door has opened slightly, before opening all the way, allowing John to come into the room. I snuggled down into the blankets more as John came closer, sitting on the edge of my bed.

"Yeah, I'm alright." I assured him. He smiled at me, putting a hand on the side of my head, just above my ear, like he did when we were kids and I had a night terror. I never knew why he did it, I guess he meant it as a comforting gesture, and it was very comforting indeed, but I never understood why he put his hand right on my ear. Maybe just habit.

"Sure?" He asked. I nodded.

"Yeah." I said softly. I was still a little shaken up, to be honest, and would rather have just been left alone, instead of being bothered with questions. John seemed to understand, and he patted my shoulder.

"Alright. If you need anything, let me know. Please." He said. I nodded, saying that I would.

He smiled, patted the side of my head again, and left the room, turning just before he closed the door, and sticking his tongue out at me, in an attempt to make me laugh, which worked.

A little later, I heard the door open again, and I expected John to come into view, but instead I was met with someone much taller. I jumped a little, and squinted, trying to see in the dark.

"Umm...I brought you some warm milk because, apparently, according to John, you were having trouble sleeping, although I don't see how this is going to help." I heard Sherlock say. I smiled a little, not exactly sure how it worked either, but it was still comforting, which was all I seemed to be getting right now, comfort was.

"Thank you." I said, taking the glass from him hands, and bringing the glass to my lips.

"Does it really work?" He asked.

"Shouldn't you know?" I placed the glass of milk on the bedside table. I saw Sherlock shrug.

"I don't know. Never given it much thought. Never tried it." He admitted. I nodded.

"Tell John I said thank you. And thank you, as well. For everything." I said, not wanting to elaborate while looking down at my blanket, picking some imaginary piece of dust off of it."  
"I'll tell him." He responded,and then he left.

"Ah, Elizabeth. Cup of tea?" I heard Sherlock ask, standing at the table and pouring tea into John's mug.

"Yeah, thank you." I said, while grabbing an extra chair and taking a seat, as Sherlock poured tea into an extra mug.

"So, 'Nine Mill'..." John asked. I was confused.

"What?" I asked.

"The cipher." Sherlock responded, though I was still a bit lost. I let it go.

"Million." Sherlock finished, as he poured his own mug of tea.

"Million, yes. Nine million for jade pin. Dragon den, black Tramway." John recited.

"An instruction to all their London operatives."

"Mmm." John hummed.

"A message; what they were trying to reclaim."

"What, a jade pin?" John asked.

"Worth nine million pounds. Bring it to the Tramway, their London hideout."

"Wait, a _hairpin_ worth nine million pounds?" I asked.

"Apparently."

"Why so much?"

"Depends on who owned it."

We made our way to the bank, even though John had wanted me to stay home.  
"Two operatives based in London. They travel over to Dalian to smuggle those vases. One of them helps himself to something; a little hairpin."

"Worth nine million pounds." John said.

"Eddie Van Coon was the thief. He stole the treasure when he was in China."

"How do you know?" I asked him. "How do you know it was Van Coon and not Lukis? Even the killer didn't know that."

Sherlock was going through the revolving doors

"Because of the soap." Sherlock said, going through the revolving doors. He looked around at John and I smugly.

Sherlock invited me along with him to talk to Van Coon's PA, Amanda, who we had seen earlier in the week. As we walked down the hallway to her desk, Sherlock pulled out his phone, and dialed a number.

"He bought you a present." Sherlock said a few seconds after he had brought the phone to his ear. "A little gift when he came back from China." He said after a pause, and we walked into the room. Amanda was sitting at her desk, her phone to her ear as well.

"How do you know that?" She asked.

"You weren't just his PA, were you?" Sherlock asked, putting his phone down. AManda turned around, surprised, putting her phone down as well.

"Well, someone's been gossiping." She remarked.

"No."

"The I don't understand. Why...?" Sherlock cut her off.

"The scented hand soap in his apartment. 30 milliliters of it. Bottle almost finished." he explained.

"Sorry?"

"I don't think Eddie Van Coon was the type of chap to buy himself hand soap-not unless he had a lady coming over. And it's the same hand cream on your desk."

Amanda looked down, awkwardly. "Look, it wasn't serious between us. It was over in a flash. It couldn't have lasted-he wa my boss."

"What happened?" Sherlock asked her. "Why did you end it?"

"I thought he didn't appreciate me. Took me for granted. Stood me up once too often-we'd plan to go away for the weekend, and then he'd just leave; fly to China in a moment's notice.

"And he brought you a present from abroad to say sorry." I looked to Sherlock, whose gaze was fixed on something in Amanda's hair. I looked closely, and saw a tiny shade of pale green in her bun. "Can I...just have a look at it?" Sherlock held out his hand. Amanda obliged, pulling the pin our of her hair, and placing into Sherlock's outstretched hand.

"said he bought it at a street market."

"Oh, I don't think that's true. I think he pinched it."

Amanda chuckled. "That's Eddie."

"DIdn't know it's value." Sherlock mumbled.

"Just thought it would suit you." I finished, feeling like dead weight only sitting around, listening to the conversation between the two.

"Oh?" Amanda leaned forward. "What's it worth?"

Sherlock smiled, and I did too, a little. "Nine...million...pounds." he said slowly, watching her reaction.

Her face filled with shock. "Oh my God!" She exclaimed. "Oh my G-" She stood up, and stumbled backwards before running out of the room. I laughed, not to be mean, but because I couldn't help it. Sherlock's smile ha widened as well. "Nine million!"

The next morning, I slept in, almost until noon, and I walked downstairs. John and Sherlock were already awake, and sitting at the table, talking.

"Over a thousand years old. And it's sitting by her bedside every night." John said.

"He didn't know its value; didn't know why they were chasing him.

"Should have gotten her a lucky cat." I joked, walking up and sitting in the Sherlock's chair behind John. John chuckled, and Sherlock smiled briefly, before looking away.

"Hmmm." He hummed.

"You mind, don't you?" John asked.

"What?"

"That she escaped-General Shan. It's not enough we got her two henchmen."

"Must be a vast network, Watsons. We barely scratched the surface." Sherlock said to us.

"You cracked the code." I reminded. "Sherlock; and maybe Dimmock can track down all of them now that he knows it." I suggested.

"No,no. I cracked this code. All the smugglers have to do is pick up another book." He grabbed a newspaper.

I looked back to John, who was staring at something out of the window. I leaned a little, trying to see what he did, and found a man painting what looked like an eye on the back of a blue box. We didn't say anything.

"Speaking of Dimmock, are you going to go get a drink with him, like you said you might?" John asked, trying to distract us.

"I don't know. I don't really like Dumbsmock all that much." John scowled at me.

"What?" I asked. Sherlock snickered.

"His name is DImmock." John said, obviously not amused.

"Yeah, I know." I told him. He sighed and shook his head, while Sherlock smiled, looking at me. I smiled back at him.

_No one's POV:_

"Without you-without your assistance-we would have never found passage into London. You have my thanks."

'M' began to type.

M- **GRATITUDE IS MEANINGLESS.**

**M-IT IS ONLY THE EXPECTATION OF FURTHER FAVOURS**

The computer beeped, telling Shan he was finished typing, and she spoke again.

"We did not anticipate-we did not know this man would come-this Sherlock Holmes. And know your safety is compromised." She said, her face full of concern.

**M-THEY CANNOT TRACE THIS BACK TO ME**

The computer beeped.

"I will not reveal your identity." She said sincerely.

**M-I AM CERTAIN**

A red dot appeared on the wall behind her, and made its way t the middle of her forehead, and a single gunshot was heard as the bullet smashed through the window in front of her.

**Ta da!**

**I thought I would add that last little part in there, just because I felt like it...that's a terrible reason, but anyway...**

**SO I am extremely excited because this Sunday because there is a Doctor Who convention in Clarksville TN and I might get to go with my dad! **

**As I promised, here all all the reviews I have yet to answer to, and thank you for taking time out of your lives, not only to read my story, but to tell me what you think. You have no idea how much that means to me! Thank you! A thousand times, thank you!**

_**I absolutely adore this story. Your grammar and spelling alone make it wonderful to read. I can hardly wait for the next chapter**_

**Thank you so much! And I'm sorry I made you wait so long :/ Oops...**

**Anyway, I am so happy that you are enjoying my story, and I hope you enjoy this chapter as well! Thank you, thank you, thank you!**

_**Oooohhh  
This is getting really interesting! ;)  
I understand completely the hassles of homework and a messy life...mine is a bit up and down too right now. I am looking forward to your next installment, and had a feeling you would cover a lot more episodes than the Blind Banker (actually, I was desperately hoping you would continue with Elizabeth...sorry, Beth...). I am looking forward to what you would do in the Scandal (I wasn't that big of a fan of Irene that much, to be honest. I've seen better portrayals of the character).  
Looking forward to whenever you post next. Don't feel to obliged to post quickly if things are piling up. :)**_

Keep being awesome!

Sincerely,  
The Supreme General

**Oh, I never realized how excited I was for the Scandal until you mentioned it! That will be so much fun! I can't wait! And I agree with you. I wasn't a fan of her either.**

**I am going to try to do all of the episodes, and I think I've mentioned before about including some things from John's blog, and I don't know what I'm going to do until season four... I've seen a few people make their predictions and write beyond season three, which, if I have to, I might as well, but I would feel bad if I got it entirely wrong.**

**Like always, thank you so much for reviewing and I am so glad you are enjoying!**

_**Hey!**_

Another great chapter. It's been so gripping, and I can't wait for what's next! Looking forward to your work and seeing how the next section goes.  
I loved the Desolation of Smaug too. I was kinda said that the battle with Smaug was over so quickly, but it makes sense in comparison to the book, I guess.  
Keep being awesome :)

Sincerely,  
The Supreme General

**I agree with you again! I wish the battle a little longer in DOS and the in the third move Battle of the Five Armies. It was over in a flash! **

**I hope you like this chapter as well, and I hope I ended it well. I can't wait to get started on the next section, so there shouldn't be too much of a wait. I'll try not to go another full week!**

_**This chapter was definitely worth the wait! I love Elizabeth and I would love to see another update soon**_**!**

**I'm happy that you liked it! I hope this one was worth the wait as well! And, like I told The Supreme General, The next update will hopefully be up soon, and there won't be a wait like the one for this chapter. Thank you for reviewing!**

**If I missed anyone, I am so, so, so sorry! I tried to get all of the reviews, but (and this might be a bad thing to mention, but I'll be honest...) I am NOT an organized person. I am working on that, but as of right now, my organization skills are slackin' so if I missed anyone, it is totally on me, and I will make it up to you! Promise!**

**So, the next chapters should be following The Great Game if there isn't one after The Blind Banker on John's blog (I'll have to check later when the WIFI is better, because right now it sucks!) but i am kind of excited about it. A little nervous because of Moriarty (who I love, but am terrified of) but I am excited! I am also hoping to add some more of Mrs. Hudson because she was left out a little in the last chapters, I wish i would have added her in more...**

**Also Mycroft will come in, mostly because of the episode, and I am super, duper, extremely ecstatic for Lestrade as well, because, lets be honest, who doesn't love him? He's amazing and I think I quote him more than I should...oops.**

**Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter, and I'll see you later! **


	7. Chapter 7 The Great Game

The next couple of days were boring. John would to go to Sarah's, or would go and run some errands, and Sherlock had some little cases he would do, nothing big, and I had the flat to myself some days. Sometimes Sherlock would stay at home,and mutter about how he was bored, which was a little annoying, but bearable. Sometimes he was nice, though, asking questions, striking up a conversation, but it was rare.

'Are you getting a job?" He had asked me. I shrugged.

"I'm looking around." I answered, flipping the page of my book.

"Are you?" He asked. I looked over my book at him. He was sitting in his chair, both arms on the armrests, and an eyebrow raised. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Not right this second." I looked back down at my book. "But I'm looking."

He hummed, taking a sip of his tea. I continued reading through the slightly awkward silence for about five minutes, while Sherlock stayed in his seat, more than likely in his 'mind-palace" which I got John to explain to me, finally, with a few exclamations from Sherlock, saying he was wrong.

"Lets play a game." Sherlock said, standing up. He yanked the book from my hands, closed it, and put it on the end table. I took a deep breath.

"What game." I asked, deciding that it might be interesting.

"Cluedo."

"Alright."  
_

"What is going on?" John asked, running up the stairs when he got home.

"That's stupid." Sherlock told me. "He couldn't have done it."

"How do you know." I asked.

"Sherlock-Beth."

"Elizabeth." Sherlock and I both corrected him at the same time. John sighed and rolled his eyes.

"_Elizabeth_." He corrected. "What is going on."

"I made a mistake."

"Yes she did. Her assumption is completely ludacris."

"No, I mean a made a mistake agreeing to play Cluedo with you."

"Oh God." I heard John mutter under his breath.

"You could have continued reading."

"You took my book!"  
"And I put it on the table beside you."

"Stop it, you two, just stop it. You two are children." John grabbed the Cluedo board, and put it back in the box along with the game pieces and cards.

"I was playing the game."  
"And you were being stupid." Sherlock muttered back. John shot a look to him.

"You mean I was being stupid _now_, or I'm always stupid?"

"Well, usually..."

"Sherlock, stop it." John warned. He looked back at me. "You too. Do not say another word. Either of you." He finished packing up the game, and put it back in its place, leaving Sherlock and I alone, staring at eachother.

I wasn't angry. I knew I wasn't very smart, and definitely not as smart and Sherlock, but I was playing the game like I was supposed to. Maybe I should have suggested Operation instead. Seems safer.

"Glad I came in when I did." John said, coming back. "You know, we do have neighbors." Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes, then looked at me.

"Want to play another?"

"Operation?"

Sherlock thought. "Why not." And he jumped up, running to get it.

"Really?" John asked.

"What?"

"You two were about to tear each other's heads off, and now you are going to play another game, like the Cluedo game never happened."

I shrugged. "So? You can play too, you know. LIke we used to do when we were children, play board games all the time."

I stared at him, and he looked back at me.

"Alright." He pulled up a chair to the table.

"I have a case." Sherlock said to me from the living room after John had left for work.

"Okay. Have fun." I said.

"Want to come with me?"

I stopped stirring my coffee and looked at him.

He had his coat on and his scarf, and was shoving a glove on his hand.

"You want me to come?" I asked. He shrugged.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Maybe because, according to you, I'm stupid." I said, bringing up the conversation from yesterday. He waved his hand, dismissing it.

"Not entirely. Get your coat, dear, we're leaving." he said, walking out of the door. I sighed, abandoned my coffee, and following him out.

The taxi ride was long and quiet. I didn't know where we were going, what we were doing, or who we were going to see, but I guessed it was interesting, considering Sherlock took the case.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Belarus." he replied simply.

"Wha-Belarus?" I asked. He nodded.

"Yes."

John would more than likely get home when we get back.

"Would you like to go back to the flat?" He asked. I shook my head.

"No, I'll go." I said, and he smiled.

"Good."

"Just tell me what happened, from the beginning." Sherlock said, sounding bored. The man accused of murder was sitting in front of us, and I was a bit nervous. He was staring at me, and I tried to keep my cool, but I didn't know how I was doing. Sherlock kicked my leg once to get me to stop shaking it, but it didn't work.

"We'd been to a bar-a nice place-and, er, I got chatting' with one of the waitresses and Karen weren't 'appy with that, so when he got back to the 'otel, we'd end up havin' a bit of a ding-dong, don't we?"

What? I was confused, and Sherlock was obviously still bored.

"She was always gettin' at me. Saying I weren't a real man."

"'Wasn't a real man.'"

"It's not weren't' it's 'wasn't'." I explained. He looked at me again, before looking back to Sherlock.

"Oh." Mr. Berwick said.

"Go on."

"Well, then I dunno how it happened, but suddenly there was a knife in my hands. And, you know, me old man was a butcher, so I know how to handle knives. He learned us how to cut up a piece."

"Taught." Sherlock said.

"What?" Mr. Berwick was getting angry.

"_Taught_ you how to cut up a piece."

"Yeah, well, then-then I done it-"

"Did it."

"Did it." He corrected and he had lost his temper. "Stabbed her" He yelled "over, and over, and over" He was beating his hand on the table at the word 'over' causing me to jump every time. Sherlock looked over at me, placed a hand on my arm, before quickly taking it off, and putting it back in its place, in an attempt to comfort me, I guess, but that didn't seem like him. Then again, I haven't known him long.

"And I looked and she weren't-" Sherlock sighed and turned his head.

"_-wasn't_ breathing no more." He sighed again.

"_Anymore." _he lowered his head. "You've got to help me. I dunno how it happened, but it was an accident, I swear."

Sherlock rose from his seat, and I did the same, following him to the door. Mr. Berwick called out to us.

"You've got to help me Mr. Holmes." He said, and Sherlock stopped. I stopped beside him and waited.

"Everyone says you're the best. Without you, I'll be hung for this."

Sherlock looked at him over his shoulder, and I did the same.

"No, no, no Mr. Berwick, not at all." I looked at him, confused, but then I understood. Sherlock looked thoughtfully for a moment. "Hanged, yes." And then he walked out with me following him like a lost puppy.

"That was fun." Sherlock said. I decided not to argue with him.

"It was alright. John will definitely be home when we get there." I commented. Sherlock shrugged.

"You're an adult, aren't you?"

"Well, yes, but that wouldn't stop him from worrying. He always worried about me.

"Why?" I turned to look at him.

"Well, I'm his little sister." I shrugged, not knowing what else to say. Sherlock shrugged as well.

"So?"

"Don't you have any siblings?" I asked.

"One." He answered after a long period of time.

"Older or younger."  
"Older."

"Don't you worry about him to some degree?" I asked.

"Trust me, h can take care of himself. And he was a rubbish big brother."

"Ah, I see." I look out of the window, but then back at him. "Is he, you know like you?" I asked. He looked at me, brows furrowed.

"How do you mean?" He asked. I did not want to explain, so I shook my head.

"I was just wondering if you were anything alike. That's all." He nodded slowly, then turned back to the window, not answering.

"Hungry?" He asked.

"Starving."

"Are you not going to eat?" I asked him. He looked at the menu for a moment. "You need to. And you don't have a case." I tried to convince him. He shrugged.

"I guess i will."

We had stopped at a little japanese place that, thankfully, wasn't too expensive, but didn't have many choices either.

"What are you getting?" He asked.

"I don't know. California roll maybe. You?"

"No idea. The same, I imagine. I don't know what is good here."

We ordered and our food came relatively quick, and I grabbed the chopsticks, looking at Sherlock's hand to figure out how to hold the and not seem like an idiot, but everytime I tried, it never worked. Sherlock had stopped eating and looked at me playing with my hand.

"Do you not know how to hold chopsticks?" He asked.

"Yeah, I do, I do, it just takes me a minute." I said, putting one of the sticks between my fingers, but as soon as I thought I had mastered it, it fell from my grasp. I sighed.

"Here." Sherlock moved from his booth to mine, sitting beside me, and grabbed my right hand, in his left, and taking the chopsticks from the table.

Gently, he took my tiny fingers in his, and manipulated h=them so that I was holding the sticks comfortably.

"There." He said, and took his chopsticks. "Now pick one up."

I tried to grab one of the rolls, and I thought I was going to drop it, but, thankfully, I never lost my grip on it.

"There you are. Simple." I looked up at him and I didn't realize how close we were until I did so. I could easily see every color in his eyes, and if you were to ask me what color they were, I couldn't give you a straight answer because while a blue and grey color were dominant, there were also hints of green and all of those had different shades, and while they may not sound hypnotizing, I was lost.

I tore my gaze away from them and forced myself to focus,

"Thank you." I said at last, He blinked widely for a moment, looking at me, before turning away from me for a second. Slightly, almost unnoticably, he shook his head, and then looked abc at me.

"You're welcome." He smiled at me, and I smiled back before he moved back to his booth and ate silently.

"Your fiance?"

"Don't have one." I responded.

"_Ex-_fiance." he corrected.

"What about him?" I asked.

"Exactly."

I looked at him confused.

"What..."

"Tell me about him." He said, looking out of the window of the cab. I took a deep breath.

"Well, Jem was...he was nice at first. Had a big family, a great sense of humor..."

"Dull." Sherlock said. "That's what everyone says. Answer honestly."  
"I was. He was nice, and funny. With an oversized family." I said defensively.

"What did you think of him?" He asked. I was taken aback.

"Well...why do you care?"

"Just trying to make conversation." He shrugged. "That's what normal people do, isn't it?"

"I guess."

"So, what did you think of him?"

"I liked him. Like I said before, he was a nice guy, sometimes almost too nice, but he wanted what was best, which didn't really matter in the end, he didn't seem to care a few months ago, but oh well. Anyway, his family now hates me, but I don't know what I've done. I guess he lied or she lied, I don't know, but I never really liked them anyway. They were alright, but there were so many f them and they were loud and annoying and nosey.." I looked at Sherlock who was smirking, "...and now I'm rambling. Sorry."

"No its'...fine. It's fine. I was listening. His family hates you, you don't like them, he cheated on you, he was too nice...see? I was paying attention."  
"It wasn't that you weren't paying attention. I wasn't paying attention to how much I was talking. If I hadn't have looked over at you, I would have kept going."

"Hmm." He hummed.

"Are you okay?" He asked. I looked at him, but he was looking ahead.

"What do you mean."

"Well, I don't know much about people or romantic relationships-well, relationships at all, really-but I do know that him cheating couldn't have been a good thing. You were with him for five years-" I was going to ask but he turned and look at me "-John told me-that must have hurt emotionally. So, are you okay?"

I sat there. What do I say? If he had asked me when I first moved in, I would have said no, no I wasn't okay then, I just didn't think about it. We were too busy chasing smugglers, I had almost forgotten about it. These past few days, though, were a bit harder. I thought more about it, which at first was difficult, but it got better the more I thought. I realized a lot of things, and came to the conclusion that it wasn't worth my time-he wasn't worth my time. Yes I was hurt; I felt betrayed, but I realized he didn't matter. He was not the person I thought he was, and one day, he will have to deal with the consequences, whatever they may be. He tried to hurt me, and I wasn't going to let him.

"Fine. I'm fine." I answered, and for the first time, I said it, and believed it too.

"There you are." I heard John say as we walked up the stairs. I walked into the door to find John storming across the room. He looked at Sherlock. "Where did you guys go, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Elizabeth got hungry, you need to do some shopping, so we got something to eat." He answered, which wasn't entirely a lie.

"Oh. Alright then. Well, I was just about to go out to get something as well."

"I'll come with you." I said, putting my coat back on. John looked at me.

"You sure?" He asked.

"Yeah. If you don't mind."

"I don't mind at all. I just thought you would like to be home." He threw his coat on as well.

"We'll be back shortly." John said to Sherlock, who had already sat down at the desk with his laptop.

Dinner was uneventful- John ate while I just sat there. I had been cooped up in the flat for a while, and I was desperate to get out. I hadn't had my own money to do anything, and I didn't want to ask John for any since he had just gotten his job, so he didn't have a lot saved up.

I needed one, a job, and I hadn't lied when I said I was looking, but to be completely honest, I wasn't looking as hard as I probably should have been. Nothing had really caught my eye.

"So." John said, putting some more spaghetti on his fork. "How was your day?" John asked, eyebrows raised. I knew what he was really asking.

"It was alright."

"Where did you go for dinner?"

"I don't know the name of it. Some japanese place not too far from the flat. Why?"

"Just wondering." He shrugged, then his eyebrows furrowed together and he chuckled. "And of course you can't use chopsticks. Must have been funny." He laughed. I laughed too, sarcastically.

"Oh yeah, it was hilarious." I rolled my eyes, jokingly.

"Did you have to get silverware?" He asked, still smiling. I took a deep breath.

"No I stuck with the sticks." John looked at me.

"You did? Figure out how to use them then?" I nodded.

"Yeah." I answered. Short and sweet, but John still stared at me.

"Did the waiters feel bad for you?" He joked. I laughed.

"No, Sherlock helped me."

I thought John was going to choke on his pasta.

"Sh-Sherlock? Sherlock Holmes?" I nodded.

"Really?" I nodded again.

"Yeah, really. Why?" I asked. John shook his head, looking down at his food.

"No reason, just wondering. Doesn't really sound like him."

Well, he wasn't wrong. It was rather odd, but I wasn't going to question it.

"Right, anyway, have you talked to Harry lately?" I asked. John nodded, smiling happily.

"Yeah. Off the booze.' He said.  
"Oh, good. Wonder how long she'll keep it up."

"A long time, I hope. I'm planning to go visit her sometime soon. She'd love to see you. How long has it been since you last talked?"

"Not long. She emailed me the other day." I said, taking a roll from the bread basket they had put out on the table. "So did mom."

"Did you tell mom about…" John waved around his fork, and I knew what he meant.

"Not mom. Harry, I did, but I was a little vague. Only told her I was helping you guys out. Which I wasn't really doing anything, but, you know."

"You helped a lot." John said. "You found the cipher under the cup, you went into those flats with Sherlock…"

"And I followed him around. I didn't do much of anything there."

"You helped through the books."

"the books that proved to be useless." I noted. John sighed and rolled his eyes.

"I just can't win, can I?" He asked. I laughed.

"Nope." I popped the 'p'

"Well," John said after a long pause. "You gave us some company." John said after a while. I laughed

"I guess."

"BUt you dd do more."

"Did not."  
"Says you."

I looked up at him and laughed.

As soon as we got to the flat, we heard gunshots. I went in before John, who was paying the cabbie, and ran up the stairs two at a time, only to walk into the flat and find Sherlock sitting in his chair with a pistol in his hands, pointed at the wall. John following in behind me, running the stairs like I did.

"What are you doin?" I asked.

"Bored." Sherlock sulked.

"What?" John asked. Sherlock got up and spoke louder.

"Bored, bored." He said, moving his arm behind his back, shooting the wall across from him. John and I had recoiled and covered our ears.

Sherlock held out the gun and John hurried to take it from him, unloading it.

"Don't know what's got into the criminal classes. Good job I'm not one of them."

"So you take it out on the wall?" I ask, sitting in John's chair.

"Ah, the wall had it coming." Sherlock traced the mouth of the newly made smily face, and then plopped down on the couch dramatically, laying down.

"What about that Russian case?" John asked.

"Belarus. Open and shut domestic murder, not worth my time.

"Ah, shame." I said sarcastically. Sherlock smirked, opening one eye to look at me, but then closing it again quickly.

"Anything in? I'm starving." John said, moving to the kitchen. I heard the fridge door open, but then shut again, quickly.

"Oh f..." I heard John cut off. I turned back to look at him as he opened the fridge again, staring inside of it.

"What?" I asked.

"It's a head." John said quietly. I thought he was joking.

"A what?"  
"A severed head." John called out.

"Just tea for me, thanks." Sherlock said, not moving.

"No, there;s a head in the fridge."

"Yes." Sherlock replied calmly.

"A bloody head."

"Where else was I supposed to put it?" He opened an eye to look at us. "Don't mind do you? I got it from Barts morgue. I'm measuring the coagulation of saliva after death." He replied, as if it were normal.

"Cool." I said. It was kind of interesting, and I would like to see the results, however disgusting it was. I tried to put aside the fact that it was in the fridge...the one that we put out food in...

Both men looked at me, but I only shrugged my shoulder. John looked at me with confusion, while Sherlock had a look of surprise, but appreciation.

"I see you've written up the taxi driver case. " Sherlock said waving an arm at the computer, I wa

"Uh, yes." John replied, sitting in Sherlock's chair.

"'A Study in Pink.' Nice."

"Well, pink lady, pink case, pink phone, there was a lot of pink. Did you like it?"

Sherlock had picked up a magazine from the coffee table and flipped to a random page.

"Erm, no." He said.

"Why not? I thought you'd be flattered."

Sherlock turned to him, lowing the magazine. "Flattered?" He raised an index finger and began reciting some of John's blog. "'Sherlock sees through everything and everyone in seconds. What's incredible though is how spectacularly ignorant he is about some things.'"

"Now, hang on a minute, I didn't mean that in a ..." John began, but Sherlock cut him off.

"Oh, you meant "spectacularly ignorant" in a nice way. Look it doesn't matter to me whose Prime Minister..."

"I know." John said quietly.

"...or whose sleeping with who..."

"...or that the earth goes around the Sun." I added quietly, remembering a conversation we had a few days back.

"Not that again. It's not important."

"Not impor...It's primary schools stuff. how could you not know that?" John asked, turning in the chair to face Sherlock.

"Well, if I ever did, I've deleted it."

"'Deleted it'?' John repeated.

Sherlock sat up to look at him. "Listen. This"He pointed to his head. "is my hard drive and it only makes sense to put things in here that are useful. Really useful. Ordinary people fill their heads with all kinds of rubbish. That makes it hard to get into the stuff that matters, do you see?"

"But it's the solar system." John said.

"Oh, what does that matter? So we go around the Sun! If we went around the moon, or round and round the garden like a Teddy Bear, it wouldn't make any difference. All that matters to me in the work. Without that my brain rotts." He looked down and ruffled his hair before looking back up a John. "Put that in your blog. Or better still stop inflicting your opinions on the world." He shoved the magazine across the table, before curling himself up in a ball on the couch. John sat for a moment, not saying anything, before getting up and grabbing his coat.  
"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked.

"Out. I need some air." John replied before walking out of the door. I went over to the window, staring out, finding nothing. Baker street was completely silent. It was nice.

"Oh sorry love." I heard Mrs. Hudson on the stairs, talking to John, no doubt.

"Ohh-ohh." She knocked. I turned to smile at her, and she smiled back, before i turned my attention back to the road.

"Have you two had a little domestic?" She asked Sherlock, walking into the kitchen. Sherlock stretched out on the couch, and then got up walking on the coffee table. I ignored him and turned back, watching John walk from the flat, and across the street.

"Ooh, it's a bit nippy out there, He should have wrapped himself up a bit more." Mrs. Hudson commented. I saw a hand come from behind me to move the curtains, and I knew who it was. I stayed still though.

"Look at this, Elizabeth." Sherlock said, his voice right in my ear, his breath tickling it slightly. "Quiet, calm peaceful Isn't it _hateful_?"

"I'm sure something will turn up, Sherlock." I said turning around, almost bumping into him We weren't even an inch apart. "A nice murder. That'll cheer you up."

"Can't come too soon." He said wistfully, looking down at me, smiling slightly. I smiled back.

"Hey." We heard Mrs. Hudson exclaim. "What have you done to my bloody wall?" Sherlock's smile widened, as we turned to the wall. "I'm putting this on your rent, young man." She said angrily, going down the stairs.

Sherlock smiled at the smiley face, then back at me, before moving to the middle of the room. I was walking behind him, going to the kitchen, when I was knocked over into Sherlock.

**Sorry it took so long, and I'm sorry this was kind of a filler, even though it did include some of the beginning of the episode towards the end.**

**I've already started the next chapter, so hopefully it will be up soon, and I'm also working on some other stories as well, but I don't know if I'm going to start a new one anytime soon...just a lot of planning.**

**Also, I have a twitter and instagram where I will post things about updates such as a days-notice before the chapter is updated, and sneak peeks. I use this twitter for all of my stories, but if you would like, I can tag you in any updates about this particular story, if you PM me. Same thing for Instagram, but I use it as my personal too, but I never post often. My usernames and such will be posted below.**

**Any who, hope you all enjoyed and sorry again about the wait! I didn't intend for it to be so long, but with the new trimester and all, I have had a bit more homework and things like that. Hopefully it will be dying down very soon!**

**REVIEW time!**

Hi again!

I always get so excited when I open up my emails to see an email saying this story is updated! I can't help myself but stop everything and keep reading. It's amazing still, and am looking forward to more! And I loved what you did with this chapter. It would make more sense for Shan to go after his sister instead of a girlfriend his has yet to develop a serious and strong relationship with. You are doing really excellent in keeping to the script, and I love it, even how you included the end scene! To me, it makes it seem more like she really was a part of the TV series, and I am looking forward to seeing how she goes in the next one! XD

Looking forward to whenever you post again!  
Take care, and have fun if you do go to that Doctor Who convention (jealous that Australia doesn't have anything like that).

Stay Awesome!

Sincerely,  
The Supreme General

**Thank you, as always, for the review, and an amazing one at that. You are insanely sweet! I am ecstatic that you love this story, and I hope to make every chapter better than the last! And I'm glad that you like what I did with it. I thought it made a bit more sense as well, but it was a bit off from the show, so I wasn't exactly sure how to go about it. I'm glad you liked it, though, and I'm glad it made sense.**

**And I never got to go to the Doctor Who convention, sadly. I went to visit my dad instead, and it was pretty expensive, so we stayed home instead. And, also, Australia?! That is so cool! I've always wanted to go there! I've heard that it's really pretty there, and hopefully one day, if I ever get the money, I'll be able to go and see for myself!**

**Thank you again for reviewing, and I hope you liked this one as well (I think I've already said that, but ah well!)**

**I want to quickly thank everyone who had followed and Favorited me and this story. It means a lot to me, as much as reviewing! Thank you all! Love you guys! I hope to hear from you guys, but I fully understand if you don't want to review. I'm like that...I read stories all the time, and I'll favorite them, or sometimes the author, but I don't review a lot, so that's alright if you don't want to**

**And I rambling...again...**

**Hopefully, I'll get the next chapter up soon, preferably not another week until the next update! **

**Catch. You. Later!**

**Twitter: Charlene Wilson ( fangirlat221b)**

**Instagram: .at.221b (Like I said, I do not use this often...)**


	8. Chapter 8

I heard a groan, and it took me a moment to realise that I was not on the floor, but I had landed right on top the consulting detective's back. I quickly scrambled up, but instantly fell back down, this time, shifting so that I turned and landed on the floor...right on my back, which had unfortunately been injured my a lot of the debris. Most of it was on my shoulders, though.

I quietly groaned in pain, earning a look from Sherlock, who was still laying on the floor.

"That could have been worse." he said, springing back up, face twisting in pain for only a slight second, before returning to normal, and I sighed. Probably expecting me to get up instantly like he did, or to find another way to at least get into a sitting position, he walked back to his bedroom, leaving me on the floor. I tried moving a little, but my shoulders screamed in pain, and I wasn't going to move without screaming myself, so I laid there in the floor surrounded by glass and various other bits of debris, hoping maybe Mrs. Hudson would come check on us, and help me somehow. Make Sherlock pick me up? Call John? An ambulance (although that really wasn't necessary, but I was bored, a bit scared, and unable to move without causing myself extreme pain. I would take an ambulance if it was offered.)

I was going to try calling for Sherlock, or Mrs. Hudson, but just as I took in a breath, I heard Sherlock's footsteps coming closer, and I decided to save my breath. He would notice I was still laying here and while I liked to lay in the floor, this was not what I had in mind.

He walked to stand in front of me, and put a box on the floor along with a bowl of what looked like water. I squinted to try to see what was in the box, and found bandages and some bottles.

"Sit up." He ordered. I took my hand and pushed against the floor, and Sherlock reached his hand forward to help me.

Once I was up, Sherlock began to look around awkwardly. I just sat and waited.

I had taken off my plaid button up, almost as soon as we had gotten home (which I left unbuttoned) and was left with a thick-strapped tank top, which revealed most of my shoulders.

Sherlock instantly went to work, sitting behind me and looking at my shoulders before taking a bottle out of the box along with a cotton ball, putting them beside him.

I waited patiently, and I felt two fingers press onto my skin, rubbing a small area.

"What are you doing?" I asked, confused.

"You have some glass from the window in your shoulder. I'm trying to get it out. Hold still." He commanded, and I straightened my head, staring out of the window.

"You know police will be here soon. So will an ambulance." I reminded. He took a deep breath.

"I know, but they're annoying and I'd rather do this myself so that I know it was done correctly. _Hold still_." he said again, as I squirmed around, the small amount of pressure he was applying hurting my shoulder more. He then took a rag, dipped it into the water, which turned out to be warm water with epsom salts (to help draw out the glass), dabbing my skin with it for a few minutes.

He did this a few more times in different places, each time taking tweezers and putting the bloody glass in a bowl, causing me to squirm. I was indifferent to blood-it didn't bother me much at all, but knowing it was mine?

I tried to turn my head once to see what Sherlock was doing, and instead of being told to hold still, he ignored me and kept working, completely focused on my shoulder, brows furrowed, lips curled in. I just stared at him, wondering mostly why he was doing this-with John's description of the man, it seemed unlikely that he would do something like this just out of the kindness of his heart, but really, who was I to say that he wouldn't? Why couldn't he?

I didn't notice he was staring right back at me, until he spoke.

"You alright?" He asked, a slight smirk on his face. I felt my face burn, and I turned back around.

"Oh, yeah, sorry. Just trying to see what you were doing." I lied. He hummed in response, but I wasn't sure if he believed me. Didn't sound like he did.

"This is going to hurt." He warned after a couple of minutes as he poured some of the liquid from the bottle onto the cotton swab. I took a deep breath.

Gently, he dabbed the cotton ball on my cuts and I winced. It stung, and wasn't bearable, but I sucked it up.

"It stings." I commented.

"I know. I'm sorry." He apologized. I paused for a moment at his words, before wincing again. "It'll be over soon. Promise."  
He extracted some more glass, putting it into the bowl, before reaching for the bow and grabbing some bandages, putting them where they needed to go.

"There." He said, and I could hear the smile on his face, and he rose from the floor. He bent over and placed a quick kiss on the top of my head, but he didn't give me time to question it before he spoke again. "All better." He walked into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of pills and got a glass of water, handing one to me. I looked at it questioningly. "For your pain. It will hurt for a while. Those weren't just little scratches." He replied. I nodded, and took it eagerly, and swallowed them with the water.

"They'll make you sleepy," He said. "You can sleep in here if you want. Probably would be best. I don't know what…" He gestured to the shattered windows. "...that...was, but…" he trailed off, and took my hands, gently helping me up to my feet without harming my injuries. I looked out the window and saw the house that was in front of us now reduced to almost nothing-the front of the building completely gone, and from here I could see the walls were charred. No telling how many people were in there.

"Oh my…" I began, but didn't finish.

"I'll board up the windows." Sherlock offered. "And clean up all of the mess...sometime or another. You go sit down." He said, but it wasn't rude.

I did as I was told, and I sat in John's chair, grabbing the blanket from the back of it, and wrapping it around myself as the cold air blew in.

Sherlock grabbed his coat and scarf, and was about to leave when I called for him, just as he was about to make his way down the stairs.

"What?" he asked.

"Shouldn't we wait for the police? They might have questions?" I reminded.

"You know what happened." I said, running down the stairs to the door. "Be back soon."

I woke up on the couch, covered with a blanket and pillow from my room, and still in my clothes from last night.

I sat up, and groaned., my head pounding and a sharp pain in my back and side.

I paid no attention to Sherlock, who was sitting in his chair plucking his violin strings, or the man sitting across from him who was looking at me as if I were in the zoo, or a fish tank.

"So," The stranger said, catching my attention. "This is John Watson's little sister. So nice to meet you." He said with an odd smile on his face. I could tell he didn't smile often.

"Yeah, who are you?" I asked. He rose from the chair offering a hand.

"Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's older brother." ah, so this was the rubbish big brother Sherlock mentioned.

I rose from the couch, despite the protests from my body, and took his hand.

"Elizabeth."

"Yes, I know."

"Mycroft runs the british government."  
"Oh, please." He laughed. "I occupy a minor position..." Sherlock cut him off.

"He is the british government when he's not busy playing CIA or British secret service." Sherlock said, and Mycroft didn't object. Honestly, the man seemed a bit more frightening than before. Funny how a few simple facts can change how you look at a person. I sat in a desk chair, and Mycroft sat back down in John's chair.

"Elizabeth! Sherlock!" I heard someone yell. John appeared in the doorway, looking over at us. I smiled at him.

"John." Sherlock said simply.

"I saw it on the telly. Are you okay?" He asked us. I nodded.

"Hmm? What?" Sherlock looked on the floor and it was the first time I had noticed the flat was filthy. Good thing I didn't step on anything.

"Oh, yeah. Fine. Gas leak, apparently." Sherlock explained before turning back to his brother.

"I can't." He said, referring to the conversation they were having before I woke up, more than likely.

"'Can't'?"

"The stuff I've got on is just too big. I can't spare the time."

John and I looked at him in disbelief. He had nothing going on at all, he had been complaining about it.

"Never mind your usual trivia. This is of national importance."

Sherlock plucked the string of the violin like he had been doing the past few minutes, but this time, he flicked his finger across all the string.

"How's the diet?" Sherlock asked.

"_Fine_." Mycroft said, obviously picking up on an insult that I missed. "Perhaps you two can get through to him." Mycroft said, not looking at John, but at me. I tried looking away, but he kept his eyes on me, making me self conscious.

"What?" John asked, looking at the damage on the floor.

"I'm afraid my brother can be very intransigent."

"Of you're so keen, why don't you investigate yourself?" Sherlock asked

"No,no,no,no,no." Mycroft repeated. "I can't possibly be away from the office for any length of time-not with the Korean elections so…" He cut off. John and I turned towards him surprised. Sherlock looked away from his violin to his brother, also shocked.

"Well, you don't need to know about that, do you?" He smiled, clearly wanting us to forget. "Besides, a case like this, it requires..._legwork._" he grimaced.

Sherlock plucked a wrong strings, irritated with his older brother, turning to John, and I followed his gaze. John was obviously uncomfortable, rubbing his neck with his hand.

"How's Sarah, John? How was the lilo?" He asked.

"Sofa, Sherlock. It was the sofa." Mycroft corrected, looking at his pocket watch.

Sherlock looked at John again. "Oh yes, of course." He said quietly.

"How…? Oh, never mind." John said, sitting on the coffee table.

"Sherlock's business seems to be booming since you two became..._pals." _he said to John. He then turned to both of us. "What's he like to live with? Hellish, I imagine."

"We're never bored." I answered. Mycroft smiled.

"Good. That's good, isn't it?" He said, as if speaking to a small child. I didn't like it. Sherlock glared at him, and as Mycroft stands, Sherlock picks up his bow and whips one end in Mycroft's direction. Mycroft picks up a folder, and tried to give it to Sherlock, but he refuses. He then tries to offer it to me, and I take it out of curiosity.

"Andrew West, known as Westie to his friends." Mycroft begins to explain. "A civil servant, found dead on the track of Battersea Station this morning with his head smashed in."

"Jumped in front of a train?" I guessed. Seemed like common sense, but Mycroft wouldn't have come if it was something so simple.

"Seems the logical assumption."  
"But?" I asked, knowing there was more.

"'But'?" He asked.

"Well, you wouldn't be here if it was just an accident." John responded for me. I heard Sherlock, who was now applying rosin to the boy with a cloth, smirk noisily.

"The M.O.D. is working on a new missile defence system-the Bruce Partington Programme, it's called." He looked at his younger brother while I leafed through the folder, John looking over my shoulder.

"The plans for it were on a memory stick." I laughed.

"That wasn't very clever at all, was it?" I said and Sherlock smiled at me. Mycroft did too, but their smiles were different. Sherlock's was one of amusement, while Mycroft was annoyed.

"It's not the only copy."  
"Oh."

"But it _is_ secret. And missing."

"Top secret?" John asked.

"Very. We think West must have taken the memory stick. We can't possible risk it falling into the wrong hands." He turned to Sherlock. "You've got to find those plans, Sherlock. Don't make me order you."

He raised the violin to his shoulder, along with the bow, ready to play. "I'd like to see you try." He said.

Mycroft moved to John and I, extending a hand. "Goodbye, John." he said. John shook his hand, and he looked at me, smiling. "And very, very nice to meet you, Miss Watson." I shook his hand as well. "See you _very_ soon." He said, and it sent a small shiver down my spine, making me uncomfortable. I don't think I _wanted _to see him again.

Mycroft went to get his coat, and Sherlock began to play a rather annoying set of notes on repeat as his brother left the flat, and waited until he was gone to stop.

"Why'd you lie?" John asked. Sherlock looks to him as the front door slams. "You've got nothing on-not a single case. That's why the wall took a pounding. Why'd you tell your brother you were busy?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Why shouldn't I?"

"Oh, I see. Sibling rivalry. Now we're getting somewhere." John said, but before Sherlock had the chance to answer, his phone rang and he fished it from his pocket.

"Sherlock Holmes." He answered. Bored, I began looking around for something to do...something that needed cleaning maybe. I would get around the the floors sometime this afternoon, probably.

"Of course, how can I refuse." he said, standing and going to the door. "Lestrade. I've been summoned. "Coming?" He asked.

"If you want us too." John turned to me and I nodded, telling him I wanted to. That won over sitting around and cleaning this mess.

"Of course." He picked up his coat.

"I'd be lost without my blogger and his sister. My Watsons."

"Who's Lestrade?" I ask while we were in the taxi. Sherlock was staring at his phone, while John and I sat on either side of him, looking out of our windows.

"Detective Inspector for Scotland Yard. A friend of ours." John said. "Well…" He looked briefly at Sherlock, and I knew what he meant. He didn't need to explain. Sherlock had a bit of trouble making friends, from what I could see, and his definition of 'friend' might have been a little different from ours.

"Oh, and beware of Anderson. And Donovan." Sherlock said, suddenly.

"Who are they?" I asked.

"Not Sherlock's favorite people." John said.

"They, surprisingly, work at Scotland Yard as well."

"'Surprisingly'?" I asked.

"They're stupid." Sherlock said simply. I laughed a little.

"Oh, well, that's nice. How will I know…"

"You'll know. When Anderson in the vicinity, your IQ will lower a considerable amount.

We arrived at Scotland Yard, and immediately made our way over to a man that looked to be in his late forties really only because of his hair and a few lines on his face.

"Hello. Who's this?" He asked.

"This is my sister, Elizabeth." John introduced me.

"Well, it's nice to meet you." He extended a hand, and I took it. "Greg Lestrade. I didn't know you had a sister." He said to John.

"Two."

"Really?"

"Enough of the chit-chat." Sherlock interrupted. "Why and I here."  
Lestrade began to lead us across the general office, but I was stopped instantly.

"Wait, wait, woah, who are you?" A woman asked.

"That's Elizabeth, John's sister." Lestrade clarified. "She's with us, Donovan." Ah, so this was Donovan.

She gave me a curious look, before moving out of my way. I smiled as a thank you, and walked forward, following the boys.

"John has a sister?" I heard a man ask. I looked over to find him with his arms crossed, looking at me with a nice smile. John and Lestrade were a bit ahead, oblivious that he had stopped me too, and I supposed Sherlock was with them.

"Yes. Why is that so surprising to everyone?"

"I just never expected John to have a sister so…" He struggled for a word, but I knew exactly what he meant.

"Attractive?" I heard Sherlock finish from behind me. "You're right. She is prettier than most, but you're married, having an affair with Donovan...really, Anderson? Any way, you're too late." Sherlock took my hand in his, intertwining our fingers, as he gently pulled me along with him, quickly catching up to Lestrade and my brother, who, when seeing our hands, had a confused look on his face, while Lestrade only raised his eyebrows for a second, shaking his head with a smile on his face, before speaking.

"You like the funny cases, don't you? The surprising ones."  
"Obviously." Sherlock answered.

"You'll love this. That explosion…"

"Gas leak, yes?" I responded.

"No."

"No?" Sherlock asked.

"No. Made to look like one."

"What?" John asked, and I was just as confused as he was.

"Hardly anything left of the place, except a strong box-a very strong box- and inside was this." He pointed to an envelope lying on his desk, the name 'Sherlock Holmes' written in blue ink on across the front.

"You haven't opened it?"

"It's addressed to you, isn't it?"

Sherlock let go of my hand and began to reach for the envelope and Lestrade spoke again. "We've X-rayed it. It's not booby-trapped." I saw Sherlock hesitate a little.

"How reassuring." He said, picking up the envelope and crossing the room to look at it under a lamp.

"Nice stationary. Bohemian." Sherlock mumbled.

"What?"

"From the Czech Republic. No fingerprints?"

"No."

"She used a fountain pen. A Parker Duofold-iridium nib."

"'She'?" Lestrade asked.

"Obviously." Sherlock said. To him, maybe it was obvious, and I could see where he got that, but a man can have nice writing too, can't he? I expressed my opinion.

"Balance of probability." Sherlock said bluntly, opening the envelope from the top with a letter opener from the desk. I peeked over his shoulder to find he had pulled out a pink iPhone.

"But that's-that's the phone, the pink phone." John said shocked. It was just a phone to me.

"What, from a Study in Pink?" Lestrade asked.

"well, obviously it's not the same phone but it's made to look like…"He stopped and turned to Lestrade. "The Study in Pink? You read his blog?" He asked.

"Course I read his blog. We all do! D'you really not know that the earth goes around the sun?" He asked. Sally, who had come into the room, sniggers loudly. I glared at her, but I don't know why she made me so mad. Sherlock was glaring at her too, before he turned back to the phone.

"Someone's gone through a lot of trouble to make it look like the same phone, which means your blog has a far wider readership." He said, looking at John. He presses the home button, switching the phone on, and finding a new message.

"You have ne new message." the voicemail read out. Then, I heard the sound of the Greenwich Time Signal-four instead of five with a longer pip at the end.

"Is that it?" I asked, not looking at the phone screen. Sherlock, though, was studying it.

"No, that's not it." He said, showing my the phone quickly, before turning it back to himself.

"What are we supposed to make of that?" Lestrade asked, looking over Sherlock's shoulder at the photo. "An estate agent's photo and the bloody Greenwich pips!"

"A warning?" I guessed, remembering a few points from history class about secret societies. Sherlock nodded, giving me a wink without the others seeing.

"Some secret societies used to send dried melon seeds, orange pips, things like that. Five pips. They're warning us it's going to happen again."

He looked back at the photo. "I've seen this place before." he stated, and walked out of the room, John and I following closely behind him.

"H-hang on. What's gonna happen again?" John asked.

Sherlock turned around, and threw his hands in the air, dramatically. "Boom!"

**Sorry if this is kind of short. I didn't write a lot over the past couple of days, mostly it was my willpower's fault, I found Criminal Minds, and I can not. Stop. Watching. It's so addicting! Highly recommend it. It is helping a little, though, with case ideas for Sherlock, John, and Elizabeth. Also, I have been listening to Iron and Wine, a great band (if you like that genre of music: the folky type things), and I have, since Sunday, downloaded 80 of their songs…...I have no regrets! (My favorite of them being Boy with a Coin, Belated Promise Ring, Walking far from Home, Bird Stealing Bread, Upward over the Mountain, and Such Great Heights.)**

**Anyway, I'll stop rambling, and get on with the reviews that you left!**

Can't wait to see how Elizabeth and Sherlock's relationship develops! I do prefer Elizabeth to Beth; I'm glad you changed it. Really looking forward to what you're going to do with Scandal in Belgravia and The Reichanbach Fall. I read another fanfic kinda-ish similar to this, there was also a third female companion who was a part of the team. But that fic ended right after the Fall, and I like this one better :)

-GraySnowie

**I prefered Elizabeth to Beth as well, to be honest. It just didn't really….fit, I guess, if that made any sense to you at all…**

**And Scandal and Reichenbach are definitely the two that I am looking forward to! I honestly cannot wait to write those two!**

**I have read many a fanfiction like this as well, that's where I got the idea for this, and I am so glad that you are enjoying it! And I won't end it right after the fall, which will be a little difficult, I don't blame them, because all of the cases in Sherlock and in the books are very complex and it is hard to come up with something that lives up to those expectations, and not only that, but the whole deal with Moriarty? And Sherlock's exile (which I know only lasted four minutes, but he's not just going to get away without some sort of punishment for blowing that guy's face off)? Whoo. That's tough! So, I don't blame them, but I WILL try my best (however terrible it may be)**

**Again, I'm glad you are enjoying, and I hope you like this chapter as well! (And I didn't mean to make this so lengthy! In print I can ramble on, and on, but if you were to ever meet me in real life, it would probably be the most awkward moment in history, because I'm really shy...when you first meet me, anyway, but most people are like that, I guess. I really don't have much to go on…)**

**can't wait for the next chapter. story is really good so far and Elizabeth is just so well thought out she fits in to the plot very well.**

-Abby7441

**Thank you so much! I hope the wait was worth it, and I will try not to go so long without updating again, but I have said that before, and things get in the way (and I'm also kind of lazy….)**

**I'm glad you are enjoying it so far, and thank you for reading!**

**Hello :)**

**I love what you have done with the Great Game so far, and how you added Elizabeth into the interrogation at Belarus. I would be shaking too having a violent criminal sitting across from me! I have a feeling this is going to be another great section! XD**

**And yes, I do live in Australia. It is nice (and not as deadly as some people think), and very multicultural. I understand your pain about the Doctor Who convention, those things can be rather pricey (the curse of the fangirl).**

**I ramble too, so don't worry. I always think my reviews are too long... :)**

**Stay Awesome!**

**Sincerely, **

**The Supreme General**

**Hello again dear!**

**Thank you, as always, for reviewing! Means a lot to me!**

**Oh and so would I! I would probably wet myself having a murderer sitting only a couple of feet away. Makes me shudder just thinking about it. You know Sherlock, and many others who do that for a living have to have nerves of steel, even if they know that there is nothing that the murderer can do to harm them. Just knowing what they've done...and I know that the past is the past, but still…**

**And I hope you're right about this being another great section. The Great Game is one of my favorite episodes, not only because it introduces Moriarty, who I just adore (that sounds kind of bad… I really hope you know what I mean….) but it also kept me on the edge of my seat the whole time, and I can't wait to write the suspenseful moments!**

**Don't worry! Your reviews are never too long! In fact, I like long reviews...I like hearing from readers in general, but long reviews helps give me more things to say, and despite it being a curse, I like to ramble, which is odd, but, in a weird way, is comforting to me. I wonder I could write a whole book just rambling...it would be pretty long!  
Thanks again!**

**See you guys next time, and remember, dont forget to follow for updates about updates, and for some little extras that may come out every once in a while ;)**

**( fangirlat221b)**

**Catch. You. Later. **


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello, hello, hello!**

**So, I meant to get this up earlier, but, sadly, my fingers are being silly. Since I play guitar, my calluses from the strings sometimes hit a nerve in my finger (or so I've been told), so everytime the tip of my ring finger touches ANYTHING, it is extremely painful, so I am doing my best to type, but, it's a lot slower than I usually am.  
Also, I've just recently watched the movie Annabelle...if you haven't seen it, and like scary movies, I highly recommend it! It was freaky! I don't think I will ever own another doll.**

**Anywho, here you go, the next chapter. Also, I think soon, I will add a mentioned character to the mix, and make it a little more interesting ;)**

**Also, I added a bit more of Mrs. Hudson, because, lets be honest, who doesn't love her?**

**The song I'm going to mention in this chapter is called Sleep Walk '68. I'll put the link to the song right here: (In the media section as well, for all of my Wattpad readers!)**

** watch?v=T4tPGljkR_w**

**I first heard it on criminal minds, and fell in love with it. Supposedly there is a version with lyrics, but I have yet to find it, sadly. Oh, well, this version is still amazing.**

**Enjoy!**

The door to 221b Baker Street was just as dirty as the flat seemed in the picture. The gold plaques flashing the address was obviously old, not shining like you would expect it, and the green paint was chipping.

Mrs. Hudson opened her door, holding a ring of keys and handing them to Sherlock.

"You had a look, didn't you, Sherlock, when you first came to see about your flat.

Sherlock, who was unlocking the padlock at the top of the door, was now inspecting the keyhole.

"The door's been opened recently." He said. Mrs. Hudson looked at him, curiously.

"No, it can't be. That's the only key." She explained. Sherlock had gotten off the padlock, and unlocked the puts another key into the keyhole.

"I can't get anyone interested in this flat. It's the damp, I expect. That's the curse of basements." Mrs. Hudson said to me. I only nodded, while Sherlock, Lestrade, and John stormed in, not waiting for me.

"I had a place when I was first married. Black mold all up the walls…" She stopped as Lestrade shut the door behind him, before I had a chance to enter. Oh well. If they really wanted me there, they would say something.

"Oh, men!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed, exasperated, before turning back to me. "Well, don't just stand there. Come in, I'll make some tea.

And she did just that, making tea for the both of us. She set two mugs on the table, and threw in some biscuits as well, which I was grateful for. I didn't have a chance to eat this morning, and it was a little past noon.

"So." She said, sitting down. I smiled at her. "How have you been?" She asked, attempting to make conversation.

"Alright, I guess." I said.

"And what about...you know the whole gas leak?" She asked, shaking her head at the whole situation. "I would have gone to check on you if I didn't have to go right back out again. The lady at the grocery store forgot to give me one of my bags. I had to go all the way back to the store to get it." She laughed, causing me to laugh as well.

"It's fine. We weren't hurt, obviously. Just a few scratches, but no real damage. And it's a good thing you were out, or weren't on your way back when it happened." I said. She nodded.

"So, how are your brother and Sherlock?" She asked, a knowing smile on her face. I decided to disregard it.

"They are both fine."  
"Good, good. I knew they had a little spat, and I was just wondering if the two had resolved it. Horrible thing, that would be, John moving out. What would you do? With John being your brother, and you being in love with Sherlock and all."

I almost spit out my tea.

"I love Sherlock? Who said?"

"Oh, no one had to say it, dear. It's obvious." She laughed, getting up from her seat to get the fresh biscuits from the oven. "Doesn't take Sherlock Holmes to see that." She said, and I couldn't help but think that she was right. Maybe he didn't like me in that way, but if Mrs. Hudson saw it, then Sherlock definitely did, which wasn't good. It was awkward, and I had a feeling the truth would come out at the worst of times...a party, or another public place where he can publicly humiliate me, stating that I was in love with him, and that he didn't return the feelings. It put an odd feeling in my gut.

"Elizabeth, dear. Are you alright? You've gone a bit pale." Mrs. H said, her brows furrowed. I smiled and nodded quickly.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. Just thinking. Something personal. I'm sorry." I apologized.

"I asked, what are you going to do about it." She said, smiling.

"About what?"

"Loving Sherlock." She prompted. I shrugged.

"Nothing, I guess. He doesn't feel the same, so I'll ignore the feeling until they go away. If they were even there in the first place, which they are not, thank you very much. I'm just saying…"

"You're just saying." She mumbled knowingly. I guess there was no point in hiding it from her. I sighed in defeat.

"Oh, don't worry, love. I won't say anything." She placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, and I grinned, thankfully, as she handed me a biscuit.

Sherlock and John had picked me up from Mrs. Hudson's flat, and I went with them to the hospital, as Sherlock had picked up a random pair of shoes and needed to do some tests and things of that nature there. John had explained everything on the way; the phone call from the crying woman, telling Sherlock to solve the puzzle, the woman being forced to read out loud what the criminal wanted them to say. Poor girl.

"Who d'you suppose it was?" I asked. I heard someone's text alert go off, but no one looked at their phones.

"Hmm?" Sherlock hummed.

"The woman on the phone-the crying woman."

"Oh, she doesn't matter. She's just a hostage. No lead there." Sherlock said. I sighed and shook my head.

"For God's sake, I wasn't thinking about leads." I explained.

"You're not going to be much use to her." He told me.

"Are-are they trying to trace it? trace the call?" John asked.

"The bomber's too smart for that." Sherlock said as a phone rung again.

"Pass me my phone, one of you."

"Where is it?" I asked.

"Jacket." You've got to be kidding me…

John looked to me in disbelief, and his eyes saying "I'm going to kill him", so I stepped up to the plate, walking across the room, sticking my hand in his jacket and looking through the inside pocket.

"Careful." Sherlock said angrily. I pinched him as hard as I could before pulling out his phone, handing it to him.

"Text from your brother."

"Delete it." Sherlock commanded. "Missile plans are out of the country now. Nothing we can do about it."

I looked at the message.

_Mycroft_

_RE: Bruce Partington Plans_

_Any progress on Andrew West's death?_

_Mycroft_

"Well, Mycroft thinks there is. He's texted you eight times. Must be important." I said, scrolling though the messages. Sherlock sighed.

"Then why didn't he cancel his dental appointment?"  
"What?" John asked.

"Mycroft never texts if he can talk. Look, Andrew West stole the missile plans, tried to sell then, got his head smashed in for his pains. End of story. The only mystery is this:why is my brother so determined to bore with when somebody else is being so delightfully interesting?"  
"Try and remember there is woman here who might die." I reminded.

"What for." Sherlock said, shrugging, looking between John and I. "This hospital's full of people dying, Watsons. Why don't you go cry by their bedside and see what good it does them." Sherlock said, turning back to his microscope, leaving John and I to stand there, unmoving.

The computer beeped, and Sherlock exclaimed, delighted.

"Any luck?" A girl asked, walking into the lab. I remembered her, but not her name.

"Oh, yes!" Sherlock answered. The girl went to look at the screen, when a man walked in, but stopped as soon as he saw us.

"Oh, sorry…" He began, but the girl beckoned him inside.

"Jim! Hi! Come in! Come in!" She said, smiling. Jim walked inside, stopping beside her.

"Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes, and, uh, sorry…" She said, pointing to my brother and I.

"John and Elizabeth Watson." John answered.

"Hi!" I greeted, but they ignored me, except for the girl, who sent me a smile.

"So, you're Sherlock Holmes. Molly's told me all about you. You on one of your cases?" Jim asked.

"Jim works in I.T. upstairs. That's how we met. Office romance." the girl giggled. Molly? Mallory?

"Gay." Sherlock mumbled.

"Sorry, what?" The girl asked, her smile fading

"Nothing. Um, hey." Sherlock 'smiled'.

"Hey." Jim said before kicking over a metal dish. "Sorry, sorry." He said nervously. John and I face palmed as Jim walked back to his little girlfriend.

"Well, I'd better be off. I'll see you at The Fox, 'bout six-ish?" Jim asked her. She smiled and nodded.

"Yeah."  
"'Bye." He said. "It was nice to meet you." but Sherlock said nothing.

"You too." John said, breaking the silence. Jim turned and left.

"What do you mean gay?" The girl asked as soon as the door shut behind Jim. "We're together."

"And domestic bliss must suit you, Molly, you've put on three pounds since I last saw you."  
"Two and a half." She corrected. I almost hit Sherlock for saying something like that, but I thought it best not too.

"No, three."

"Sherlock…" John warned.

"He's not gay. Why d'you have to spoil…? He's not." Molly said, clearly extremely upset. Sherlock only snorted.

"With that level of personal grooming?"  
"Because he puts a bit of product in his hair, I put product in my hair." John said, stepping forward.

"You wash your hair. There's a difference. No-no-tinted eyelashes; clear signs of taurine cream around the frown lines; those tiered clubber's eyes. Then there's his underwear."

"His underwear?" I asked, confused.

"Visible above the waistline. Very visible;very particular brand. That, plus the extremely suggestive fact that he left his number under this dish here, and I say you'd better break it off now and save yourself the pain." Molly only stared at him for a second before storming out of the room, with me following after her.

"Molly." I called down the hallway, She stopped and turned to face me, clearly still angry, and I don't blame her. "Are you okay?" I asked. She paused before nodding.

"Yeah, I'm alright, I guess."

"I'm sure he was just trying to do something kind. Tell you beforehand? I don't know, but I don't think he meant to hurt your feelings." I explained, believing every word I said. Sherlock may not have been very nice, but he wasn't cruel.

"Thank you." She smiled. "I"m fine. Elizabeth, right?" She guessed.

"Yeah." I nodded.

"Thank you, Elizabeth." She said before turning to go back down the hallway. I watched her walk away a few steps, before turning myself.  
"Oh, Elizabeth." Molly called back. I spun around to find her facing me.

"You're a lucky girl." She smiled, and I knew what she meant.

I had walked in just as Sherlock had a breakthrough.

"Carl Powers."

"Who?" I asked.

"Carl Powers, Elizabeth. It's where I began."

"Nineteen eighty-nine, a young kid-champion swimmer- came up from Brighton for a school sports tournament; drowned in the pool, Tragic accident. You wouldn't remember it. Why should you?" He said, showing us a newspaper on his phone.

"But you remember?"  
"Yes."

"Something fishy about it?"

"Nobody thought so. Nobody except me. I was only a kid myself. I read about it in the papers."

"Started young, didn't you?" John said.

"The boy, Carl Powers, had some kind of fit in the water, but by the time they got him out, it was too late." Sherlock explained. "But there is something wrong; something I couldn't get out of my head."

"What?" I asked.

"His shoes?"

"What about them?" John asked. I leaned to look around him at Sherlock, eager to hear his answer.

"They weren't there. I made a fuss; I tried to get the police interested, but nobody seemed to think it was important. He'd left all of his clothes in his locker, but there was no sign of his shoes…" Sherlock said, then he held up the bag of shoes. "...until now."

There were six hours to go, and Sherlock was practically glued to his microscope, while John and I sat in the living room. I was lying on the couch while John paced back and forth. I thought he was going to burn a hole through the floor.

John, not being able to stand it any longer, opened the sliding door to the kitchen.

"Can I help?" He asked, but I heard no response. "I want to help. There's only five hours left." But still, Sherlock didn't respond.

I heard mine and John's phone buzz at the same time, and I grabbed mine from the coffee table.

_UNKNOWN_

_Any developments?_

_Mycroft Holmes_

"It's your brother." I said standing. "He's texting us now."

"Must be a root canal."

John walked into the kitchen, putting his phone away, while I saved the number, thinking it might be useful later, and I would forget to do so in a few hours.

"Look, he did say 'national importance'." John reminded. Sherlock snorted.

"How quaint." He said, not looking away from his microscope.

"What is?"

"You are. Queen and country." Sherlock said.

"You can't just ignore it." John said, sternly.

"I'm not ignoring it. I'm putting my best man on it right now."

"Good." John crossed his arms, and nodded, satisfied. "Who's that?"

John had only been gone for a good five minutes, and I already wanted him to come back. There was nothing really to do, besides read, and I had already finished most of my books, and I didn't want to disturb Sherlock and John's shelves. I also couldn't watch TV because of Sherlock's research, so I decided to take a nap, but that wasn't working for me either.

Sighing, I stood up and walked to the kitchen, wondering if Sherlock needed any help.

"No, thanks." He said, quickly, standing from his microscope, and walking around. I nodded.

"Right. Okay." I said, awkwardly, walking back to the couch and plopping down, closing my eyes.

"Tiered?" Sherlock asked, and I cracked an eye open to look at him. I shrugged.

"A little. Can't sleep, though. I've tried."  
"Hmm." Sherlock hummed in response. "Bored?" He asked, and I opened both eyes this time.

"Yes. Very." I answered.

"Hmm." He hummed, again, sitting in his chair.

An awkward silence fell between us, and i closed my eyes again. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"I just thought I would take a break." He answered. "Why?"

"Just wondering." I shrugged, shooting up from the couch, and going to the kitchen, grabbing an apple from a bowl on the counter by the sink, and walked back into the living room, sitting across from Sherlock. His hands were in a praying position, underneath his chin, but his eyes were open, staring at me.

"You own records."

"Yes. I do."

"How many?"

"Why?"

"Curious."

I nodded. "A lot."

He nodded his head slowly, looking to the side, before snapping his head back to me.

"So you like music."

"Yes." I humored him by answering his stupid questions.

Sherlock sat still for a moment, before jumping from his chair and going back to his bedroom.

I heard his footsteps coming back down the hallway quickly.

"You don't mind, do you?" He asked, flashing a record in front of me. I shook my head.

"Please, go ahead." I said, but I'm sure he would have played it either way.

I closed my eyes and waited for the music.

When the music started, I instantly knew what it was: Sleepwalk-one of my grandmothers favorites. When John and I were little, we used to go over to her house and stay the night, and she would always play old music, this song being my favorite, while we made cookies or crafts.

I felt a smile creep to my face, and I opened my eyes to find Sherlock standing in front of me.

"Do you dance?" He asked, holding out a hand. I smiled wider.

"No."

"Oh come on."

"You have work to do." I said, motioning to the microscope.

"I could use a break."

"I don't know how to dance."  
"I'll teach you. Come on." He grabbed my hands and I stood up in front of him. He placed one of my arms on his shoulder while he placed his on my waist, and grabbed my other hand, holding it in his in the air. He then began to move his feet, and I tried to keep up, but ended up stepping on him.

"Sorry." I said, but he shook his head, sighing, before lifting me up from the ground, by my waist, and putting me back down on the tops of his feet, before swaying back and forth again.

"You know…" Sherlock began. "earlier today, when you went to Mrrs. Hudson's?" He asked. I nodded.

"Yeah."

He leaned in, his face beside mine to whisper in my ear.

"The walls aren't exactly soundproof." He said, and I could hear the smile on his face. I felt mine become red from the base of my neck, to my cheeks.

Sherlock moved his hand that held mine in the air, to my waist, but I kept mine in the air, mortified.

Sherlock chuckled, placing a quick kiss on my cheek, so quick I almost didn't notice.

"Oh, don't worry." was all he said, and I calmed down enough to move my arm to his shoulder. He didn't move his head, though, so I rested mine on his shoulder and he rested his head against mine, although he was a lot taller than me, so it was probably kind of awkward.

The song had ended, but Sherlock didn't let go. Instead we kept swaying back and forth to nothing, in bliss.

**Tada!**

**I tried to add some more dialogue of my own, a request made by a reviewer, which I thank.**

**Again, the song played in this is called Sleepwalk by Santo &amp; Johnny '68 but the 1959 version is just as good!I listened to both while writing. I'll add a link to both here:**

** watch?v=1st_9KudWB0** **(1959 version)**

** watch?v=T4tPGljkR_w** **('68 version)**

**Reviews:**

**Hello!**

**I am excited. So excited. I think I have an addiction to this fanfiction. I love it so much. I absolutely understand the adoration of Moriarty - such an ingenious application of the character can not be denied. He's one of my all time favourite villains. I think it's wonderful, everything you have done so far. If I was to have any complaint, it was only that you missed a few quotation marks, but nothing major or that important.**

**That's good that my reviews aren't too long. Its always great to get feedback, and know how your readers are going with the story, so I always make sure I include that as much as possible in these reviews. :)**

**I think I too could write a book containing my ramblings and spiels that I go into on some occasions. Sometimes the more words you have, the more comfortable it is to read and say (as long as it doesn't go to far).**

**Can't wait for more! XD**

**Until we meet again,**

**The Supreme General**

**I am so glad someone gets it! I can't be the only one addicted to him, and Andrew Scott did an amazing job portraying him! And he's my favorite, too! So insanely clever!**

**And I'm sorry about the quotation marks. Sometimes I get in a hurry and I forget those little things. I hope this one is a little better. And I agree. The more words, the more comfortable it is to read. Thank you again for your wonderful review, my dear, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and enjoy the rest to come! I always get so insanely excited when I see that you have left a review!**

**well, its rather boring because we all know how the cases are gonna end, theres nothing new, and your description of their behaviors and conversations are average, could be MUCH better.**

**So far the only thing ive liked is Sherlock telling Anderson he was too late and grabbed Elizabeth's hand.**

**However, since I don't know when the next rudimentarily decent story of Sherlock will pop up, ill alert this one.**

**-hums- a piece of advice. stop quoting the series. put your own conversations into this, your own events. Make it your own. Understand?**

**~narutonarutolove**

**First, I want to say thank you for your constructive criticism. I always appreciate it.**

**I have planned on adding a few cases that weren't explained in the show, are in John's blog, or some of my own, but just to kick things off, I began with some of the episodes, more for myself to get used to writing this before I go off of the beaten path. I am going to try to make it my own as much as I can, without making it something completely different altogether, if that made any sense…**

**Thank you again for your review and your criticism!**

**Yay this is great! I love how Sherlock is caring for and tending to Elizabeth; it gets me all smiley :D And I pretty sure a lot of people are really shy when they meet someone for the first time in real life (especially writers). I'm really glad that you're updating as often as you are and shouldn't feel bad about that, because, well as you said, things get in the way (like finding an amazing new show to binge on or schoolwork). I also think you're really on point with John's reaction to Sherlock being all close with Elizabeth; his overprotectiveness is so sweet.**

**~GraySnowie**

**Aww, thank you sweetie! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and it made you just as smiley as the last! ;)**

**And I am extremely shy the first time you meet me, but once you get to know me, I don't think I ever shut up….which isn't a good thing…**

**I'm glad you are enjoying it, and thank you so much! And I am especially glad that you think John's reaction is on point! I love John, and I was worried I would write him a bit out of character.**

**That's all the reviews for this chapter, and I have made a decision…**

**I was looking at the properties for this story, and the traffic for it, and holy crow, guys! It's insane! I didn't think this story would be as popular as it is! It amazes me!**

**So I have decided that I would tell my parents and some other selected family members that I write fanfiction (my mom is vaguely aware that I write fanfiction, and my dad has no clue) IF I reach:**

**100 Followers and Favorites**

**and**

**90 reviews**

**Which shouldn't be too hard, right?**

**But I'm planning around 20 chapters or more, so**

**If I get 100 F&amp;F and 90 reviews by chapter 15, then I'll tell them…**

**which shouldn't be a big deal, but, as I have said before, I am really shy and absolutely terrified on confrontation...I mean T.E.R.R.I.F.I.E.D!**

**So, anyway, I hope you enjoyed, and please listen to the songs in the A/N, and I'll see you soon!**

**(Also, if you want to, follow my twitter fangirlat221b for chapter update info, sneak peeks, and hints about upcoming chapters!)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello again, after a short break!**

**So...Last chapter was a lot of fun to write, and hopefully read, and I hope this was will be too ;)**

**The beginning of this chapter is going to be something a little different, only for a few sentences, though, just to test it out, and to maybe add a little bit to the story, other than the cases. I write in third person point of view all the time, but I'm not used to changing from first to third in a chapter. Usually my stories are in first or third, never both, so I wanted to try it, to give some insight. If you don't like it, please tell me, and I will try to find a way to add these little things another way, which wouldn't be hard at all! I've done it once before with The Blind Banker at the end, but not with my own material.**

**Anyway, I don't think I have anything else to say, other than enjoy**!

Martha Louise Hudson trudged up the stairs, carrying a tray of punch and some snacks for Elizabeth and Sherlock-more for Elizabeth, though. She knew Sherlock wouldn't eat much, if he ate at all.

She reached the top of the stairs, a smile on her face, ready to greet with two, but she stopped instantly, her smile widening, and she almost squealed with delight. Elizabeth and Sherlock were wrapped in a tight embrace, swaying back and forth to music that only they could hear.

The older woman leaned against the doorframe, watching the couple, wistfully, remembering the days when her and her late husband were that young.

She was going to turn and walk away, taking the snacks back to her flat, when Sherlock's eyes cracked open, landing on her. Her eyes widened, and she knew that he knew she had been standing there for a while, but instead of scowling at her, and making a scene, disturbing the moment, he cracked a small smile, and mouthed a 'thank you'.

A few weeks back, Sherlock had stormed into her flat in the middle of the night, waking Mrs. Hudson and forcing her into the living room to talk. Confused, and a little worried, she obliged, listening intently to something she never thought she would hear come from Sherlock.

He talked about Elizabeth-how she confused him, and made him feel. Mrs. Hudson hold back giggles. She knew exactly what he was feeling, and informed him of what she knew he was feeling, causing him to storm out of her flat, only to run back in a few hours later, asking what he should do.

Mrs. Hudson grinned and walked away, a smile permanently plastered on her face, part of her worrying about John when he came home and found them…

The soft swaying causing the rhythmic creaking on the floor, almost like a rocking chair, coupled with my exhaustion, I was almost put to sleep, but instead of succumbing to it, I turned my head, causing Sherlock to raise his and look down to at me.

"What are you doing?" I asked. His brows furrowed.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, why are you doing this. This isn't like the Sherlock Holmes I've come to know." I said. Sherlock smiled.

"Is that bad?" He asked, and I shook my head quickly.

"No, no, it's not bad at all, just…" I closed my eyes, nuzzling into his shoulder. "...unexpected." I finished.

"Hmm." He hummed, leaning his head back on mine.

"And a bit...suspicious. Sherlock, what are you up to?" He shook his head.

"Nothing. I have to be up to something to be nice and romantic?"

"Romantic?"

"Oh, come on, Elizabeth, you can't be completely daft."  
"'Completely daft'? You were doing good, Sherlock Holmes. You were doing good." I laughed. I felt him smile, and I raised my head to look at him. His smile was different, though. Oddly warm-well, for Sherlock anyway- and genuine.

I smiled back at him, and his eyes locked onto mine. I tried to look away, but I couldn't, and I felt blood rush to my cheeks again, and I knew it was visible. Sherlock chuckled quietly, bringing up a hand to cup my red cheek, brushing his thumb against it lightly.  
He leaned in slowly, but then stopped, as if he was waiting for me to push him away. I didn't push away, nor did I really want to. When he saw that I wasn't going anywhere, he began to lean in again, and closed his eyes. I closed mine as well, as his lips lightly brushed against mine.  
"Bloody hell!" I heard someone shout, and my eyes shot open. I tried to push away from Sherlock, but he kept his arms locked around me. I looked at him, and his face was full of amusement, while mine, I'm sure, was one of complete terror.  
I turned my head to find that my fear had been confirmed. John was home.  
"Welcome home, John." Sherlock said. "How'd it go?"  
"Wha-." He stopped, holding up a finger. "What… what are you doing?"  
"Kissing, John. You're not stupid. Isn't that what people do?" Sherlock asked, jokingly. John only shook his head, and smiled a terrifying, mysterious smile that usually made its appearance when John was truly upset. And it scared me.  
"You two…" Poor guy, couldn't get out a full sentence. "No." He shook his head.  
"Why not?"  
"Because you…" He pointed at Sherlock. "are you. And she" he pointed to me "is my little sister." Sherlock shrugged.  
"Yes, I know she's your sister. You told me a few days before she came "Sherlock, my sister is coming to stay'."  
John wasn't having any of it. He marched into the room, and grabbed my arm, pulling me to sit on the couch, and then pulled Sherlock back to the kitchen.  
"Stay there. Both of you."  
"Yes dad." I said. He sent me a glare, and plopped down on his chair.  
We sat like that for a long while, and Mrs. Hudson, hearing the noise John had made, came up the stairs with some drinks. There were only three hours to go, and I was getting anxious.  
Deciding that something to eat or drink might calm my nerves, I walked to the kitchen, John's eyes following me the whole time, and grabbed a drink from Mrs. Hudson's tray.  
"Poison." Sherlock said quietly. I looked over at him.  
"What are you going on about?" Mrs. Hudson asked. Sherlock slammed his hands on the table, causing Mrs. Hudson and I to jump.  
"Clostridium botulinum!" he exclaimed. Mrs. Hudson ran out of the room and John joined us. "It's one of the deadliest poisons on the planet! Carl Powers!"  
"He was murdered?" I asked.  
Sherlock jumped from his chair and walked over to where the laces from the shoes were hung.  
"Remember the shoelaces?" Sherlock asked. "The boy suffered from eczema. It's be the easiest thing in the world to introduce the poison into his medication. Two hours later he comes up to London, the poison takes effect, paralyses the muscles and he drowns."  
"Wouldn't the autopsy pick it up?" I asked, but Sherlock shook his head.  
"No, It's virtually undetectable. Nobody would have been looking for it." He walked to his laptop, and began typing furiously.  
"So how did you find it, then?"  
He pointed to the laces. "There were still tiny traces of it left inside the trainers from where he put the cream on his feet."  
"Ah. Clever." I said.  
"That's why they had to go."  
"So how do we let the bomber know…" John asked.  
"Get his attention. Stop the clock."  
"The killer kept the shoes all these years." I said.  
"Yes. Meaning…?"  
"He's our bomber." I finished. Sherlock smiled at me just as the phone rang, and Sherlock rushed to answer.  
"Well done you." I heard a woman say. Poor girl was obviously bawling her eyes out, and I couldn't blame her. "Come and get me."  
"Where are you? Tell us where you are." Sherlock said loud and clear

The next morning, we headed to Scotland Yard first thing, into Lestrade's office. Sherlock stared out of the window while John and I sat in front of Lestrade's desk.  
"She lives in Cornwall." he told us, leaning back in his chair. "Two men broke in wearing masks, forced her to drive to the car park and decked her out in enough explosives to take down a house." He explained. I shook my head, wondering who could do something like this. That was horrible. "Told her to phone you. She had to read out from this pager." Lestrade threw a peger across the desk and I picked it up to look at it.

"And if she deviated by one word, the sniper would set her off." Sherlock concluded.

"Or if you haven't solved the case."

"Oh, elegant." Sherlock walked back to the window. I heard John sigh beside me.

"'Elegant?'"

"But what was the point?" I asked. "Why would anyone do this?"

"Oh-I can't be the only one who gets bored."

It was silent again for a moment, before the phone beeped. John picked it up, and unlocked it.

"You have one new message." it announced. Sherlock joined us at Lestrade's desk, and the phone sounded the Greenwich pips again, but this time, there were four.

"Four pips?"

"First test passed, it would seem. Here's the second." Sherlock held up the phone for all of us to see. An abandoned car, driver door opened, the number plate visible.

"It's abandoned, wouldn't you say?" Sherlock asked. I nodded.

"I"ll see if it's been reported." Lestrade told us as Donovan walked into the room, holding a phone.

"Freak, it's for you." She announced. I wondered who she was talking about, but Sherlock stepped forward, taking the phone from her hands, and walking out of the room to talk.

I sat in a chair in front of Lestrade's desk.

"Listen, um…" John started. I looked to him, waiting for his to continue. "Last night." was all he said, and I knew what he was talking about. Inodded.

"Yeah, what about it?" I asked. John shook his head quickly.

"No. Nothing, nothing. I just...it was odd." He said, not looking at me. "I...I don't want to talk about this _now, _but we are going to talk about it." He told me.

We fell silent again, then John shifted in his chair. "I mean, I know neither one of us have known him very long, but I have known him longer than you."

"Oh, so you want him to yourself." I smiled. "Okay, well I'll stay out of your way, but I don't think Sherlock feels the same about you." John was shaking his head and holding a finger up in the air to stop me. I laughed at him.

"No,no, that's not what I'm saying at all. I'm just saying..." he stopped and sighed. After a long pause he spoke again. "Sherlock is a great man. Lestrade told me that himself, and I believe him. He also told me that one day, if we are lucky, he'll be a good one, and I believe that as well."

"Where are you going with this?" I asked.

"Im saying that although he is a great man, he may not be the best man for you. He's a sociopath, Elizabeth. I know you have taken psychology classes and sociology classes."

"John, I know you want whats best for me,; you're my big brother. And i have taken psychology and sociology classes and I have done research on sociopaths and psychopaths myself: looked at famous sociopaths and psychopaths throughout history, interviewed people for essays-I know. I've learned a lot about them, but there's something different about Sherlock. I don't really think he's a sociopath, he just doesn't show his emotions a lot, and that's okay. And I know sometimes he can be cold and cruel, but I don't think he's a sociopath." I explained. John was listening intently and nodded slowly, looking at his shoes. "And about him not being the best guy for me; shouldn't i find that out for myself?"

John said nothing else as Lestrade hung up the phone, not hearing our conversation.

"We've found it." He said, walking out of the door, and John and I jumped to follow him.

Sorry this took so long. I went my dads and haven't had a lot of time to write as much as I thought I was going to.

Reviews:

Arrggghhh! The feels

This chapter seemed a tad jumpy - from scene to scene, but I understand why at the end! I'm sick in bed today and this brightened up my world :) Thank you for that. I love that extra section out of the script. It is great to see what else happens around the case, and Elizabeth is a great asset to further explore the world of Sherlock.  
Man, I hope that makes sense.  
I hope you do get to your goal - I too didn't tell my family or friends for a while when I wrote ages ago. I might pick up the pen and write a fan fiction again...but eh. Don't be terrified, you've done well. What you are doing is a skill in itself, and maybe some of your friends will think strangely of you, and maybe your parents will be concerned, but always remain true to who you are and write what you want to. It took me a long time to learn that lesson, but now I am too terrified to write fan fiction again. Stay strong, and I love everything you've done so far.

Sincerely,  
The Supreme General  
(Sorry about the long review)

-

Sorry it was so jumpy. you were not the only one to catch that and when I went back and read it, I caught it as well. Sorry about that. I hope this one was better!

And I'm sorry you were sick, and I'm glad I could help. I hope you're feeling a thousand times better!

And thank you so much for your advice. It has helped me now, and I'm sure it will years later :) Thank you!

Woohoo! Congratulations on the success of your story! It definitely won't be a problem for you to get to 100 follows and favorites. If I told my family that I wrote fanfiction, they'd just be like: woo, that's great. And then they'd forget the next day, but I do tell my close friends.  
I've read tons of fanfic that basically retell the episodes and follow the transcripts with a little bit of their own twist, and I've watched the entire Sherlock twice so I pretty much know all the action and dialogue about to occur. Reading and watching the same storyline over and over and over again gets a bit tedious, so I really like how you added your own scenes and dialogue, because they give me something new to look forward to, and I can't wait until you add your own mini-cases from the books.  
I also like how Molly and Elizabeth reacted towards each other. I could see them becoming good friends.  
Hope your finger is feeling better!  
-GraySnowie

-  
Thank you! And I have a feeling that may be some of my family that I can name, but ah well.

And I agree with you. Reading and watching the same thing over does get a bit boring, and in the past I haven't done the best job adding my own scenes, but I do plan to add more. And I am extremely excited to cases from John's blog and the books. I have yet to see someone do that, and while I'm excited, I'm also a bit nervous, but I am excited to write them. It should be interesting.

I have read many a fanfic where Molly and the OC don't get along...at all. And while that's fine, I'm not a big fan of their rivalry. I adore Molly, and I think she would be sport if Sherlock were to have a significant other.

And thank you. My finger is feeling a lot better. Sometimes it just hiccups, but it is much better. Thank you!

narutonarutolove:im so glad! i loved how you added the dancing scene, -thumbs up- made it your own. good progress!

But now im worried, since apparently you dont want to deviate from canon (original story line) and im wondering how eveythings gonna end up in the last episode of season 2, the fall.

Gosh, i hope that doesnt happen.

Another thing, deviating isnt such a bad thing, if you've got a nice plot, you can still write Moriarty, but with your own plot. its not that difficult. you come across as a person who this might not be much problem of. thinking up a plot.

Im glad the story was updated quickly, i have a tendency to forget stories i read the more time passes.

-

I'm still thinking about the Fall. I want to change some things with that if I can. I'm not quite sure how I'm going to do that yet,.but i do have some ideas.

And I'm sorry this update was a little late. The next one shouldn't take as long.

Thank you so much for your advice and your review!  
-

Hi!  
I am quiet liking this fic, its often interesting to see how an oc can fit into the storyline. I would make one suggestion for the improvement of the stroy flow tho, when the scene jumps, ie. the next day or a few hours later or the like, show it in some way with a line break with a symbol or something, it will help with flow.  
-TempestinTime  
-

Hello! I'm glad you my fanfiction, and I'm sorry about the last chapter's flow. I hope this one flowed a bit better.

I love it. Please update again soon.  
-wolviegurl  
-

I'm glad you love it, and I'm sorry this one was so late. The next one won't take as long, promise!

(I got a a Guest(s) so I will post them all here with the chapter number they reviewed on, since the are short and I can respond to all of them at once.)

Guest(s)

Chapter 3:

Love your story!

Chapter 8:

Okay, I am seriously in love with your story!

Chapter 9:

Love the story!

Thank you so much, dear, whoever you may be! I'm glad you love it!

I believe that's it, and Im sorry about any mistakes. I am writing on my tablet, and I hate it because I get in a hurry and always hit the wrong keys. I tried slimming through and catching them, but I don' if I got all of them. I'm also sorry it's so short. The next one longer.

Catch. You. Later.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey.**

**So, This chapter will have a much longer preamble to it, explaining my absence and I also want to give you guys some insight about the last chapter when Elizabeth and John were talking in Lestrade's office.**

**I am so, extremely sorry! I know, I haven't updated in forever, it seems, and you have every right to be upset! And then, I changed my name on top of that, so… (Eruaphadriel is actually my name in Elvish! (Christa) Because I'm a big Tolkien geek, I looked it up…)**

**I've been studying for midterms (and have been trying to get my grades up. All five of my classes being core classes? It sucks!), then my internet went out due to thunderstorms and bad wiring, and I've had some health issues with myself and with my step dad the past few weeks, so I haven't really been doing much writing as of late.**

**Also, I am working on a book of my own (with mythical creatures, magic, dragons…wee!) and I just finished the outline for it, and if you have ever written an outline…*sighs, exhausted* you know what I'm talking about. I have scrapped four or five outlines, changed character names too many times to count…it was a lot of work, and I'm still not even 100% happy with it, but ah well. You guys have been waiting long enough, and the outline can wait!**

**But now the outline is finished (kind of), my step dad and I are healthy (again, kind of. Allergy season hits me like a punch in the face!), midterms are over, grades have improved, and hopefully, I can get back into the groove of writing!**

**And now, about the last chapter:**

**I did a lot of research, and I read an article by an amazing journalist and psychologist Maria Konnikova (if you google sociopath Sherlock, it should be the first or second article), and while I don't agree with her completely (I think sociopath and psychopath are two different terms-very similar, but different.) she did make some excellent points in her article.**

**I personally do not think Sherlock is a sociopath. I think he lacks in social skills, and can separate work and emotions very well, and when it comes to emotions, he doesn't like to show them, and I know many people like that, my own step father included. **

**This doesn't mean that I don't think he has sociopathic (Is that a word? Is now…) tendencies, because I can see where people think he is a sociopath, and if you disagree with me, that's totally fine. If there was no variety in this world, what a dull world it would be. I'm just saying that it doesn't mean he is one…**

**My grandmother and a few others I have talked to, though, do seem to think he has Asperger's… I have read up on it, and he seems to fit the description quite well, but I'm not entirely sure. I'm on the face with this topic, but I have plans for it.**

**Anyway, I just thought I would explain a little, and please share your opinion with me as well via PM or twitter or in a review. Who knows, you may be able to sway me…**

**Anyway, I am so sorry again, and I am hoping to make it up to you guys: for the next chapter, maybe two, you guys give me some ideas. I am not going to waver from the case by much, but if you guys want to see more Sherlock and Elizabeth, or see more brother/sister love between John and Elizabeth, or anything else, tell me, and your wish shall be granted!**

**Also, I am sorry the last chapter was so short. I wanted to get something up for you guys no matter what, so I went ahead and posted. Hopefully this one will be much longer and much better than the last!**

We arrived at the crime scene fairly quickly and walked towards the car.

"The car was hired yesterday by an Ian Monkford. Banker of some kind; City boy. Paid in cash. Told his wife he was going away on a business trip, but he never arrived." Lestrade explained as we walked. Him and Sherlock made their way to the passenger side of the car while I stayed back a bit with John.

"You two are still hanging around him?" I heard a woman ask. I turned to find Donovan walking towards us.

"Yeah, well…" John trailed off.

"Opposites attract, I suppose." She said, but John shook his head quickly.

"No, we're not…" He tried to tell her, but she cut him off.

"You should get a hobby. Both of you. Stamps, maybe, or model trains. Safer." She informed us. I faked a smile and nodded as she turned to join Lestrade, John and I following.

Sherlock was leaning into the car looking around while Lestrade spoke.

"Before you ask, yes, it's Munkford's blood. The DNA checks out." He told him while Sherlock shut the glove compartment door.

"No body?" He asked, standing.

"Not yet."

"Get a sample sent to the lab." Sherlock instructed before walking away. I followed him along with John as he walked over to a woman who had been talking to a police officer just a few moments before.

"Mrs. Monkford?" She turned around, her eyes full of tears, and I immediately felt horrible for her. Poor woman just lost her husband.

"Yes?" She asked. She looked at us and sighed, looking away. "I'm sorry but I've already spoken with two policemen."

"No, no, we're not from the police." I assured her. "We're…"

"Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock cut me off and introduced himself, but something was different. I turned to look at him and he had tears in his eyes as well. Fake tears, I guessed. He held out his hand for her. "Very old friend of your husbands. We,um…" he paused for a second, looking down as if he was trying to hold back tears. "…we grew up together."

"I'm sorry, who. I don't think he's ever mentioned you." Mrs. Munkford informed, worrying me a little.

"Oh, he must have done. This is… this is horrible. Isn't it." I turned to look at John, who was trying to keep his face neutral, but it looked like he was failing. "I mean, I can't believe it. I only saw him the other day. Same old Ian, not a care in the world." Sherlock smiled at her tearfully, but she didn't return it. IN fact, she looked a little angry.

"Sorry, but my husband's been depressed for months. Who are you?" She asked, causing me to worry a little more. I looked to Sherlock, wondering if we were going to smooth this over quickly and flee, or if he was going to keep playing his roll, which I must admit, he was very convincing. He had tears rolling down his cheeks already, and, even though I know he's faking, I still wanted to give him a tissue and a hug.

"Really strange that he hired a car. Why would he do that? It's a bit suspicious, isn't it?" He asked.

"No, it isn't. He forgot to renew the tax on the car, that's all." She argued.

"Well, that was Ian. That was Ian all over."

"No it wasn't."

I looked to Sherlock, now terrified, to find that he had dropped the roll, his face now back to his normal, bored facial expression.

"Wasn't it. Interesting." He turned and walked away, and I sent a small, apologetic smile to Mrs. Munkford before following him and John. I could feel her eyes on my back and I felt horrible. I desperately hoped Sherlock had found something out from all of that, otherwise we pestered a poor, probably widowed woman for nothing other than the heck of it.

"Why did you lie to her?" I asked, catching up to the boys and ducking under the police tape. Sherlock wiped a few tears before speaking.

"People don't like telling you things, but they love to contradict you. Past tense, did you notice?"

"Sorry, what?" John asked.

"I referred to her husband in the past tense. She joined in. Bit premature-they've only just found the car."

"You think she murdered her husband?" I asked.

"Definatly not. That's not the mistake a murderer would make."

"I seem." I said, nodding. John, though, was still confused.

"I don't. What am I seeing?"

"Fishing. Try fishing." I heard Donovan yell as we walked past. John gave her a quick nod, before turning back around.

"Where now?" I asked. Sherlock held up a business card, handing it to John and I.

"Janus Cars. Found that in the glove compartment.

We had six hours to go and we were sitting in the office of the car hire company. John and I were sitting across from the owner, while Sherlock stood, moving around the room a bit.

"Can't see how I can help you gentlemen." He said, his eyes darting to me. "And lady." He added quickly. I smiled.

"Mr. Munkford hired a car from you yesterday." I explained.

"Yeah, lovely motor. Mazda RX-8 . Wouldn't mind one myself!" He told us.

"Is that one?" Sherlock pointed to a car outside of the window, and the owner turned to look, Sherlock looking down the man's collar at his neck.

"No, they're all Jags. Yeah I can see you're not a car man, eh." The owner said, looking back at us.

"But surely you could afford one. A Mazda, I mean." I said.

"Yeah, that's a fair point. But you know how it is. It's like working in a sweet shop. Once you start picking at the liquorish and all sorts of wonders you don't stop." He told me. I nodded, understanding.

"You didn't know Mr. Munkford." John said. Sherlock began walking around again, passing behind John and I to stand at the other side of his desk while we spoke.

"No, he was just a client. Came in here and hired one of my cars. No idea what happened to him. Poor soul." He answered.

"Nice holiday?" Sherlock asked, changing the subject entirely. The owner looked at him.

"Eh?"

"You've been away." Sherlock stated.

"Oh, no, it's the sunbeds, I'm afraid. Too busy to get away. My wife would love it, though, a bit of sun.

"Have you got any change for the cigarette machine."

My head snapped to Sherlock, my brows furrowed in confusion.

"You smoke?" I asked, but he ignored me.

"I noticed one on the way in and I'm gasping." Sherlock handed him some bills and the owner dug into his pocket for his wallet. He found it, and opened it, but didn't have much on him at the moment from what I could see.

"No, sorry." He said, closing his wallet again.

"Oh, well. Thank you very much for your time. You've been very helpful." He opened the door, ready to leave. "Come on Elizabeth, John." He said as we rose from our seats to follow him.

Once we were outside, I dig in my coat pocket, finding some extra coins.

"I've got some change if you want to-"

"Nicotine patches." He said patting his arm. "I'm doing well."

I put the money back in my pocket and smiled. "Good."

"What? That I don't need your money?" He joked, stopping in his tracks, but I was serious.

"No, it's good that you're quitting. It's not good for you, smoking." I explained. He nodded with a slight smile before continuing on.

"So what was that all about?" John asked him.

"I needed to look inside his wallet. He's a liar."

**So, I know this wasn't much longer than the last, but I wanted to give you guys something. They will start getting longer-I just need to find my groove again.**

**And, like I said before, tell me if you want more or less of anything-tell me what you want to see, and you'll see it. Your wish is my command!  
Reviews!**

loved it, more please.  
~wolviegurl  
-

**Glad you love it, and here ya are! Hope it's to your liking!**

There's a scene a bit confusing, when John catches them kissing, he pulls Sherlock to the kitchen, but then he says "stay there, both of you" and he plops on the couch, so, is Sherlock on the couch or in the kitchen?

If you want to write different POVs, so it won't be confusing (as that is your worry) but so far it isn't (confusing), use a 'separator'. We use it a lot to separate sudden changes of scenes and such. Either with a line, of with bold lettering of your choosing.  
~narutonarutolove  
-

**Hello again, and thank you for the review! I can see where that could be really confusing! John did put the two in their separate rooms (Sherlock in the kitchen, then Elizabeth stayed in the living room, on the couch). Sherlock was in the kitchen. When John tells them to stay there, he meant to stay where he put them. (I hope that made some sense. If your still confused, please tell me. I'm rubbish at explaining things sometimes.)**

**And thank you so much for the advice on changing POV's so it won't be confusing, and using the seperators. I will definitely use it in the future!**

Loved the dancing...and John's reaction. I'm looking forward to seeing where this is going to end up...and I hope I don't wind up in too many tears at the Fall.  
Thank you for your well wishes, and I hope you healed too. I'm glad you liked the advice, too.

Stay Awesome :)

Sincerely,  
The Supreme General

-

**I'm glad you enjoyed it, and I think I know what's going on at the Fall…nothing is set in stone yet, but I have an idea!**

**And thank you! I am feeling a lot better, and I hope you are too! I hate being sick or in pain of any kind! It's horrible!**

**Thank you so much for your review, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well.**

I liked this this chapter. It was great to see more of Mrs. Hudson and I loved it when John walked in on Sherlock and Elizabeth canoodling. Everyone's reaction was priceless.  
~GraySnowie  
-

**I'm glad you liked it! I hope to add Mrs. Hudson more (because you can't not love her! She's such a good person!) and I'm glad you loved their reactions. That's one of the things I was worried about writing, and you set my mind at ease. Thank you for that, and for your review!**

**Oh! I wanted to share some more with you guys! Something I though was a bit funny…kind of weird, but funny.**

**How many of you have seen Game of Thrones? For those of you who watch it, you know how gruesome and… well, dirty, for the lack of a better word, it can be.**

**I have begun watching it, and if you look past the nasty things, it really is a great show! My sister knew that I watched it, but she was the only one, besides a few close friends. Well, she said something about it in front of my dad, who watches GOT as well…**

**I was worried, panicking when he looked in the review mirror and asked "You watch Game of Thrones?"**

**I can't lie to my own father! So of course I nodded, hesitantly, waiting to be reprimanded, scolded…**

**"****What season are you on?"**

**…****.Dad?**

**He seems completely fine with me watching it, of course warning me that it's dirty and has some scenes I will need to fast forward through, but other than that, we talked about characters, how much we hated some (Cersei Lannister...), who we were rooting for (Dany!)…**

**Not the reaction I was expecting from one of my parents. Then he told my step mom, and I waited for her to say something about it, but she did the same thing! I was shocked.**

**Now my mother on the other hand…**

**She'll never know. I will be banished, forced to live on the streets!**

**I'm kidding, obviously. I'll probably just be grounded…for a really, really, really long time.**

**Anyway, I just felt like sharing, because I found it kind of hilarious. Of course, I was thankful for him thinking I was mature enough to handle all of the nasty scenes and such, but it was still a shock.**

**I'm not going to keep you any longer, and I'm sorry again about the super late update! I hope all is well, and I'll see you soon!**

**~Eruaphadriel **

**_May I always live to serve you and your crown_**


	12. Chapter 12

**H****ey guys. I really have nothing to say here other than I have taken all of your suggestions into consideration, and tried to put some things in this chapter that you said you wanted to see (mostly Sherlock/ Elizabeth in this chapter but some brother and sister moments between John and Elizabeth are coming soon) so , yeah. Here you guys go. Hope you enjoy!**

**(Sorry if it isn't as good as the other previous chapters. I'm not feeling my best as of late :( I swear, I'm drowning in snot...eww!)**

Saint Barts was not my favorite place to be, but it wasn't my least favorite either.

It was boring, sitting around, waiting for Sherlock to do whatever it was he was doing. I looked at John, who looked back at me, reading my mind.

"Sherlock, you'll be alright by yourself for a while, right?" John asked. He didn't answer, though. John looked at me. "Want to go get some lunch?" he asked. I nodded.

"Do you want anything?" I asked Sherlock, knowing he probably wouldn't answer me, but I thought I would ask.

He only shook his head, and waved his hand for us to continue on out of the room.

"Alright then." John muttered and we left.

"Speedy's sound alright to you?" He asked.

"Speedy's sounds great."

We had taken our order, and were sitting, waiting for our food. , for one, was starving, not eating breakfast this morning, and Sherlock and John not keeping a lot of food in the flat wasn't helping.

"So." John said, starting a conversation, ending the slightly awkward silence between us. "What do you think. Of London, I mean." He asked. I nodded, taking a sip of my soda.

"I like it a lot."

"So you'll be staying for a while, then." John guessed, excitedly.

"Yeah. I think I'm done traveling for a while. Mrs. Hudson said something about changing the locks on 221C and getting someone to come clean it up. I might move in there. Don't want to keep mooching off of you and Sherlock." I explained,. John shook his head vigorously.

"No, no. You stay with us as long as you want to. Sherlock definitely doesn't seem to have a problem with it." He said, and I felt my cheeks go red as he gave me a knowing look.

"Shut up." I laughed. He laughed along with me.

"In all seriousness, though, you are more than welcome to stay with us. You can even move in completely, if you like." He said.

"Where will you sleep?" I asked. "I hate making you sleep on the couch."

"You're not making me. We'll work something out." He smiled.

"Thanks." I said, and out order was called. John walked up to get them, leaving me alone at the table. I looked across the room, glancing at people, when I caught one staring at me. He was kind of tall with black hair. I knew I had seen him before, I just couldn't put my finger on it. The sun was shining through the window behind him, so I couldn't see him well, but he looked really familiar. Right when I was coming close to figuring out who he was, John sat back down at the table and handed me my sandwich.

"Here you are. What are you staring at?" John asked.

"That guy over there in front of the window. Who is he?" I asked, but when John turned, the man wasn't there. He must have left, or I was seeing things.

"There's no one there." John said, confused.

"He was there a second ago. I could have sworn I knew him."

"Well, he must've left. John said, saying what I had thought only seconds before.

"Must have."

"Have you heard from Harry any at all?" John took a bite of his sandwich. I nodded.

"Yeah a few days ago."

"How is she?"

"She's fine. Trying to stop drinking, but we've heard that one before." I told him. He sighed.

"I hope she does it this time around. She should come to London and visit for a day or two. WE could spend the day together like we did when we were kids." John suggested. I nodded, and then laughed, covering my mouth with the back of my hand.

"Oh, gosh we were horrible children." I said. John laughed as well.

"We were. I'm surprised mom didn't lock us away somewhere."

"Remember when we found that cat, and we kept it in my room to try and hide it from mom?" I asked, causing John to laugh more.

"That was all you."

"Was not!" I laughed. "You were the one it followed home." I reminded. "And, you were the one who wanted to keep it."

"The time you, Harry and I got our punch on the carpet, and tried to clean it before mom woke up."

I laughed harder. "And you tried to clean it with the bed sheets, and then tried cleaning those too."

"And I didn't make it in time, and sat on them in the corner so mom wouldn't know."

I laughed harder than I had in a long time.

" We were horrible." I said again.

"We were. We had so much fun."

"Yeah." I agreed, feeling a wave of nostalgia, wishing I was a kid again with John and Harry, doing stupid things that were just too much fun not to do.

"And lets not forget, the time you cut Harry's hair." I almost spit out my drink. "That was downright evil. Cutting her hair off...and not inviting me to join."  
" I wanted to play barber shop, and you were busy."

"No I wasn't."

"How do you know?"  
"Well, how do you?"

I stayed silent for a moment, as John's eyebrows rose. "I'm guessing."

We spent more time reminiscing, hardly paying any attention to our sandwiches.

My phone buzzed in my pocket for a brief second, and I pulled it out.

"Sorry." I said to John, who shook his head.

"It's no problem."

**FROM: Sherlock**

**Mind if I join you?**

**SH**

"What is it?" John asked.

"Sherlock, wanting to know if he could join us."

" I guess he's finished at Bart's, then. If it's alright with you…?" John trailed off. "We could go sight seeing. He could tag along, and then we can plan a day with just the two of us." He said. I nodded.

"Sounds great to me." I smiled.

"Text him. Tell him to meet us at Speedy's."

**TO: Sherlock**

**We're at Speedy's. Meet us here.**

"This should be fun. Sight seeing with Sherlock." John laughed. "And you don't mind?"  
"Not at all." My phone buzzed again.

**FROM: Sherlock**

**Be there in 15.**

**SH**

We waited outside of Speedy's for Sherlock, and exactly fifteen minutes later, the cab pulled up, and he got out.

"Want me to hold it?" He asked. John shook his head.

"No, we're just going to walk around."John said. Sherlock paid the cabbie, and he drove off.

"So, where are we going?" I asked. John shrugged.

"Wherever you want to, princess." John said.

"Don't call me that." I warned and he laughed, while Sherlock looked at us confused.

"He used to call me that when we were kids."  
"That's because you firmly believed you were actually a princess."

"I _know_ the I was a princess."

"'Was'?" John asked.

"Yeah. I'm a Queen, now." I said, raising my head, and strutting down the street, jokingly. John laughed and I saw Sherlock smile.

"Then what does that make us, huh?"

"Sherlock's my knight." I said,placing a hand on his shoulder, doing the same to John, who was on my right. "And you; you are the court jester." Sherlock was laughing now.

"Really?" John asked. "I'm your brother." He chuckled.

"So? You title still stands." I said, and we fell silent again.

"Oh, Queen Elizabeth of Bakerstreet." Sherlock said, giving me a title. I smiled at him.

"Yup. The Queen of Bakerstreet." I repeated. I liked it.

We went to the London eye first, deciding to get a taxi instead of walking the distance, which Sherlock had no problem reminding us that he could have held the other one when we couldn't find one ourselves.

"I don't know why you want to go _here_." Sherlock said. I shrugged.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Seems kind of boring."

"I don't think so. I think it will be cool." I smiled. He shook his head.

We wedged into a compartment full of tourists and waited.

"We are going to be in here for half an hour with all of these people." Sherlock mentioned. I sighed.

"I know. It'll be fine-just ignore them." I said and then looked out of the window. I was wedged between John and Sherlock and with a great view of London.

"It is amazing though, isn't it?" Sherlock asked once we had reached the top. I looked at him.

"I thought you didn't like the London Eye." I said.

"I don't, but I like the view." He clarified. I was still a little lost as to what he didn't like about it (i guessed all of the people in one compartment), but I didn't ask.

"It's alright." I said, wringing my hands. He looked down at them.

"Are you alright?"  
"Yeah, fine." I said, but he looked at me, unconvinced. "I just- I'm not a fan of heights. I haven't liked them since I was a little girl, so I've avoided them as best as I could. I thought this would be different, that maybe I had overcome my fear, but-" I trailed off, not stating the obvious. "Don't get me wrong, though, like you said, the view is amazing, and I don't regret doing this, it's just a bit scary." I explained. He nodded.

"Well don't worry." He said, patting my back. "We're going back down. Shouldn't take too long."

I lowered my hands to my sides, the right one red from rubbing it, and I felt someone squeeze it slightly. I looked down to see who it belonged to, seeing a pale hand holding mine, and black, tweed coat. I looked up at Sherlock, whose looked at me out of the corner of his eye, before looking back out of the window as my face turned slightly red and I squeezed his hand had reached the bottom, but Sherlock didn't let go of my hand.

John had remained oblivious until we walked out, and I heard a little choke from behind us. Sherlock and I turned to make sure he was still following, and saw him looking down at our hands, and then back up at us, a little ways away.

"Coming John?" Sherlock asked. John recovered quickly, and ran to catch up with us, not saying a word.

"It's getting late. Anything else you want to do?" Sherlock asked. I looked at John, who shook his head,

"Not that I can think of, no. I have to get home and dressed."

"Oh? Date tonight?" I asked. John nodded.

"Yeah. Sara and I are going to this fancy restaurant that just opened across town." John said, smiling. I had only met Sara on a couple of occasions, but I really liked her, and she seemed to make John really happy.

"That's good. I hope you have a great time." I said. "Are you picking her up?"

"Yeah." John said, his eyes cutting to Sherlock for a brief moment, who wasn't really paying any attention to the conversation at all.

"Well, tell her I said hello, then."

"Will do. are you two going to be okay by yourselves?"  
"We'll be fine, John." Sherlock said, deciding to participate.

"Alright."

We got a cab back to Bakerstreet, not talking the whole time.

When we arrived, John got out of the taxi and went straight to his room. He had kept all of his clothes in there, since he really didn't have anywhere else to put them.

Sherlock had finally let go of my hand, but only to take off his coat and scarf while I did the same, laying them on the back of John's chair.

"How do I look?" John asked, coming down the stairs in a nice suit and new shoes.

"You look great." I complimented, walking up to him. "Although your tie is crooked." I mumbled, fixing it a little, and then brushing a hair off of his shoulder. "There." I smiled.

"Thanks. I'll be back late. Don't wait up." He yelled as he ran down the stairs.

"He'll probably end up sleeping at Sara's." Sherlock said.

"Willing to bet?" I plopped down in John's chair and picked up a book.

"Yes. Five pounds." He said.

"Ten."

Sherlock raised his brows at me. "Alright then. Ten pounds." He held out his hand, and I stood up to shake it, placing the book down on the chair.

Sherlock didn't let go of my hand, though. Instead he took both of my hands and began to swing them back and forth. I laughed.

"What are you doing?" I asked him. He shrugged.

"Are you hungry?" He asked. It had been a few hours since we had gotten lunch, and I didn't eat all of it because John and I had been talking, and then we went sight seeing, so I was a little hungry.

"Yeah, why?"

"I just thought I would make dinner." Sherlock said. I looked at him in surprise.

"Sherlock Holmes can cook?" I joked.

"It's not hard."

"Well at least someone in this flat can."

"You can't?"

"I'm rubbish." I laughed. "I tried once. Cookies. I burnt them to a crisp. Then I tried making something for Christmas dinner with the family. It was horrible." He laughed. "It smelled like feet. How is that even possible?" I began to laugh harder.

"I'll have to run to the store, though. We are out of everything." He said, changing the subject.

"Alright."

"Are you staying or going?" He asked, grabbing his coat.

"I think Im going to stay and have a shower." I told him. My hair was getting dirty and I'm sure I smelled like my dish at Christmas.

"Okay. I"ll be back shortly." He said, placing a quick kiss to my forehead, before going out the door. I stayed frozen where I was, wondering if I had imagined it, before making my way to the bathroom.

I finished before Sherlock got back, luckily, since I had forgotten to get some clothes, and ran up to John's old room to get dressed.

I dressed in some regular clothes instead of pajamas, just in case we had to leave on the spot, either because Sherlock really doesn't know how to cook, or something about the case came up, and sat on my bed, turning on the TV.

I smelled something cooking downstairs, so I went to check on it.

Sherlock was just setting a plate on the table when I walked in. It was cleaned off-all of his chemistry things no where to be found, and the table had been polished. There were two plates-one at the head of the table, and one right beside it, with two glasses and some silverware. The kitchen was completely clean, even the dishes were washed, and nothing was on the stove. All of the food was on plates on the counter, waiting to be placed on the table.

"I didn't hear you come in." I said. Sherlock turned to me.

"Oh, hello. I didn't hear you come in either." He said, taking another plate, and setting it on the table as well. "You do like spaghetti, don't you?" He asked. I nodded.

"Love it."  
He moved around the table and pulled out the chair to the side of the head of the table, and motioned for me to sit.

"Thank you." I said as he scooted the chair in. He sat beside me and I looked at the food.

Everything looked amazing.

"John told me you weren't a big fan of meat, so I didn't put any in, and he mentioned something about you not liking white bread either, so the breadsticks are whole wheat." He told me, and I looked at him in shock.

"Thank you. You didn't have to go through all of that trouble." I told him as he put a spoonful of spaghetti on my plate.

"It was no trouble at all, Elizabeth." He smiled.

"How did you know all of that?"  
"I asked him."

"When?"

"When I was at the store."

I laughed. "You asked him while he was on his date?"  
"It was important." He said. "Besides, he was still in the taxi. And you are supposed to enjoy a date, aren't you?" He asked, as he began making his own plate. I paused for a moment.

"This is a date?" I asked. He looked up at me with wide eyes, as if he said something he wasn't supposed to.

"Do you want it to be?"

"Do you?" I raised my eyebrows, trying to avoid saying yes and seeming like the idiot I would feel like.

"Well, obviously." He said, stuttering a little. I pressed my lips together to suppress a smile.

"Then it's a date." I stated.

"Our first date." He mused.

"What about the circus?" I asked, jokingly.

"Oh, you're not really counting that, are you?" he asked, laughing. This wasn't like the Sherlock everyone else saw. He was smiling and joking-happy. Sherlock behind closed doors. He wasn't as serious and rude. He was kind and caring, and seemed more human than when he was with other company.

I laughed at him. "You're not?"

"No. That would have been a rubbish first date."

"I don't know. Chinese gangsters? Definitely original."

"Getting kidnapped?"

"Like I said: Original." I shrugged, taking a bite. He scoffed.

"You'd be surprised."

We ate in silence for a moment, before I spoke up, noticing Sherlock was actually picking up his fork and eating.

"I thought you didn't eat on a case." I mentioned.

"Solved it."

"Oh. Simple, then."

"Extremely." He replied, telling me bits about it.

"Clever. Kind of." I responded. He nodded.

"I suppose."

Silence fell again, but it was comfortable. With both of us being introverted (or I guessed he was), we enjoyed each others company without saying a word, which was something that I wasn't able to do with Jem or even John. It was awkward or uncomfortable. It was nice.

"You mentioned you could play some instruments." Sherlock remembered.

"When did I say that?"

"When you came to the flat one of the first days you were here, and John and had run back to the store."

"Oh, yeah, after he had a row with the machine." I said, giggling a little, remembering him yelling at the machine and everyone staring.

"You asked me to play violin, and then you mentioned you played guitar and piano, I think it was?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Never had any proper lessons, though. I usually just played by ear. I've wanted to learn the violin though. I've always enjoyed it." I said, recalling my grandmother being able to play, and she would always play the most beautiful songs. I never knew the names of them, or if she had just made them up, but I loved them. It was always a different one every time, though.

"Hmm." He hummed.

"What?"

"Nothing."

I stared at him for a few more seconds, suspicious, wondering what was going on in that funny old head of his, but I said nothing else, and finished my dinner.

We put our plates in the sink, and decided to do the dishes in the morning before Sherlock asked me to join him in the living room.

"You said you wanted to learn, yes?" He asked, standing by the window. I was going to ask what he was up to, when he turned with the violin in his hands, holding it out to me. I walked a little closer. "I could teach you, if you would like."  
I only nodded, walking by the window. He smiled and moved behind me.

"Here." he said, and I felt something cold on my neck and beneath my jaw. I moved my eyes to find Sherlock holding the instrument in place. "Take it." He instructed, and I did so, holding it gently with my left hand, slightly terrified. I knew just how much he loved it, and if I were to do any damage to it-

Not only would I feel bad, but I think I would be feeling bad in my grave…

He removed his hold on the violin, and moved in front of me again, handing me the bow.

"Here."He said again, and I took it in my right hand unsure of what to do next.

He took my hand and manipulated my fingers on the strings, then took my head in both hands, and tilted it so that my jaw was on the chin rest.

"There." He said, smiling a little. "Now, all I want you to do is play just one string. The harder you press, the louder the sound, and pull the bow across as straight as you can.

I brought the bow up and did as he asked, playing only one string, and not pressing very hard. It wasn't very loud, and I didn't think it sounded bad at all. When I had finished, I looked to him for his opinion.

"Not bad. Not bad at all, actually." he said. I smiled.

"Thank you."

We practiced some more, before my fingers began to hurt. I hadn't played guitar in ages, so my calluses weren't as strong as they were years ago. I didn't say anything, though. Sherlock seemed to be glad that I was learning and taking an interest in something that was such a big part of his life, besides his work. I know I would be, so I tried to forget about it, and kept playing.

I had learned a little piece, nothing too hard, and was ready to learn another, when Sherlock noticed.

"Are you alright?" He asked. I nodded and smiled.

"Yeah I'm fine."

"Sure?" He looked to my fingers, then back to me with a knowing look. I sighed, but nodded. "We can continue tomorrow, if you wish."

"When tomorrow?"

"Whenever you want to."

"Okay." I said, lowering the violin, handing it to Sherlock, who placed it on it's normal spot on the table. He took my hand and looked at the fingers.

"That has to hurt." he said, rubbing his thumb over my fingertips lightly. I shrugged.

"It's not bad. They'll be better by tomorrow." I said. He nodded, not looking at me.

"You could have told me." he said, but I shook my head.

"I wanted to learn. You're a really good teacher, you know." I complimented. "And an excellent cook. Where did you learn?"

"To cook? Or to play violin?"

"Both."

And he told me. They weren't some silly stories like one might expect. He learned to cook by watching his mother, and violin from another family member, which was ordinary, which was nice to have sometimes, especially living with Sherlock and John. I loved living here-it was exciting and different, there was no schedule, every day was something new, and while I loved it, it was nice to have something normal and dull every now and then.

We stayed there in front of the window, saying nothing, Sherlock holding my hand still. It was one of the best first dates I had ever had, and we didn't need to go to some fancy restaurant or spend a lot of money.

I looked up him, and his face was full of confusion.

"What's wrong?" I asked. He began to shake his head, but stopped and took a deep breath.

"Elizabeth." He said. "I'm not good with emotions, and romance is not really my area," He stopped, and I grabbed his other hand, squeezing it a little, urging him to go on. "Over the past few weeks, or, well, ever since you have been here, rather, you've confused me. Most people I can tolerate, and can push them out of my mind without a second thought, but you, you keep coming back. I can't _not_ think about you, and at first it drove me mad. No matter what I did, _you_ were there, somehow, and you made me feel things that at first I didn't like, and it still confuses me a bit, but now I'm sure. I _know_ what I'm feeling now." He looked into my eyes, all of the confusion had been wiped from his face, like it was never there in the first place. I was still smiling, knowing what he was trying to say, and I knew that he could tell, and didn't have to say anything.

A look of uncertainty crossed his face, briefly, before he brought both hands to my face and pressing his lips to mine, not hesitating like he did last time.

I was shocked for a moment, thought I knew it was going to happen, but kissed him back, raising up on my tip toes, since he was so much taller than me, taking my arms and wrapping them around his neck as his fell around my waist, not really caring that we could be seen from the window by anyone or that John or could walk in at any moment.

He pulled away and rested his forehead against mine.

"Watson, I believe I have fallen in love with you." He said,,referring to me using my last name something I did to him quite often smiling a little. I grinned back.

"And I believe I have fallen in love with you, Holmes." I replied before he kissed me again.

John Watson got out of the cab and sighed. The date had not gone to plan. The restaurant had messed up their reservations and did not have a free table so they ended up eating at Sara's, which wasn't a bad thing, but John wanted to do something nice for her, seeing as it was her birthday and all.

He just wanted to take a shower and get a good night's sleep and try to think of a way to make it up to her.

He looked up to the building, noticing 221B's lights were still on meaning someone was awake, more than likely his sister, who was the night owl, and she was going to ask how the date went, which was something he really didn't want to answer. Conversation was something he wanted to avoid all together.

His eyes moved from one window to the other, and he sighed again. There in the window was Sherlock and Elizabeth, which would have been fine if they weren't kissing.

John pulled out his phone and dialed Sara's number, getting back into the cab, not feeling like walking in on them and having to scold them again. He just hoped it wouldn't lead to anything else...

**BAM!**

**Well, my friends sorry that sucked. I tried to go through and pick out some things that didn't make sense and I'm writing most of this on my tablet while sick, so it's probably not my best work, but ah well...**

**I'm not very good at romantic scenes either, sorry...**

**Reviews!**

**Hello!**

**Interesting chapter, and I agree it was rather short and not that much different from the actual show, but this scene had to be done on one stage or another. I know the pain of outlining. I recently finished going through my second manuscript of my fantasy novel (my profile image and name change are inspiration from that, i.e. my main character). I would say your opinion makes perfect sense, and I thought Sherlock acted differently to a sociopath. The Asperger's scale would suit him too. Then again, you will have opposing opinions - the world is never perfect.  
I love your name change! It's so elegant. Mine was great too when I translated it into Sindarin thanks to a lovely website. And I also loved your closing quote. Is it GOT? Or from your original outline? (I don't watch GOT for the dirty aspect - but I've heard most of the plot points thanks to the internet).**

**Sorry if this is a long and painful review/comment**

**\- Elyshia Aislinn -**

**Ahh! Your name change is beautiful! I love it! And i bet your novel will be absolutely amazing! I would love to read it when you get it published, or if you publish it online somewhere! I love the fantasy genre!**

**I spoke with my mom who has taken many psycology and sociology classes and she could see a bit of both actually. She did come to the conclusion though that he leaned more towards Asperger's or another form of high functioning autism which explained many of and his intelligence. I have a cousin with autism, and he can give directions to a place he. Has only been once, better than someone who has been there multiple times. People with autism are incredibly smart much smarter than most give them credit for which I find heartbreaking.**

**My closing quote is actually something I found on the internet months back. I was looking for a different way to close a letter something that sounded a bit medieval- something better than just 'Sincerely' and i found that and fell in love with it! I try to close my authors note with either a reference or a quote which I know I haven't done every time, mostly because it's difficult to find something different from a normal closing and that popped into my mind while I was writing.**

**I totally understand not watching GOT because it's dirty. I usually skip past it, or (if there is a lot of dirty scenes) watch something else and look at that episode's plot on wiki. **

**And your reviews are never painful! I love reading your comments! They make my day, and the longer the review the more I have to say (I don't know if that's a good thing , but I feel better saying more than just 'thanks, glad you liked it')**

**I am glad you liked it though, and thank you for leaving a review! Good luck with your book! I'm positive it will be amazing!**

**I would love to see more Sherlock and Elizabeth. And John and Elizabeth! Maybe just a day for them to do brother sister things and bond? Sherlock could go off on some trip, and they're left in London to their own devices. Maybe solve a minor case together? Just an idea.  
~GraySnowie  
-**

**Hello again, dear! I will definitely add more Sherlock/Elizabeth, and I'm planning Elizabeth and John's day together right now! I can't wait to write it! And some minor cases could be really cool!**

**Thanks for your ideas! Hope you enjoyed!**

**wonderful chapter, I can't wait to see how you play out Irene showing up. Sherlock/Elizabeth!**

**~wolviegurl**

**Everytime I think of writing the episode with Irene it makes me grin, evilly. I am so excited! You have no idea how excited I am! It's not natural!**

**And i will be writing much more Sherlock/Elizabeth from this point on. I feel bad for having neglected their relationship for a while, i just didn't want to write sherlock too out of character, so sadly i kind of put it off our of fear, but I'm jumping in, now so, much more of them to come!**

**So, I'm a huge fan of Paul McCartney (The Beatles 3) and I listened to the song 'Maybe I'm Amazed' while writing part of this chapter, and it's an amazing song if you feel like giving it a listen. **

**Also, I have discovered a new artist that I absolutely adore named Eurielle. She has become one of my favorites as well!**

**Anyway, that's all I have for today! **

**May I always live to serve you and your crown.**

**Eruaphadriel.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hello!**

**Thank you for all of your well-wishes! I am feeling a bit better now, not as snotty, still coughing a little, and my back hurts a bit, too (more because of other reasons…darn scoli!) but a lot better than before. Thanks!**

**So, I really don't have much to say here other than I am sorry about the last chapter, and I'm sorry this chapter is so late. There were some mistakes, that I don't think were there when I was typing, but I really don't remember, and also, some symbols I put were deleted as well. In the bottom of the last author's note, when I was talking about Paul McCartney, I didn't mean to put The Beatles 3 in the parenthesis. I meant to put The Beatles 3. ( I checked it this time!)**

**I don't know why that bothered me so much, but it did.**

**Also, I have two more things. I have FOUR more weeks of school, then summer! Whoop, whoop! I'm ecstatic!**

**And, I think I'm going to write more in third person, but I don't know how I'm going to do it, and I'm going to try to explain, but I don't know how much sense I'm going to make, so bear with me here…**

**You know how I've been doing third person when I'm going to someone else's POV? For example, Mrs. Hudson and John…**

**I feel like I could do better with third person, and like I said, I want to do a lot more of it, to switch things up a bit, but I don't know about Elizabeth…I don't know if I want to keep it in first person or go ahead and try third.**

**I just wanted to ask you guys, because this whole thing had been in first person, but I don't feel like I do as well. I also don't want to make such a dramatic shift in POV, going from always doing Elizabeth's POV, to third person. I've even gone as far as considering rewriting, but I don't think I'm going to. I'm lazy…which isn't good, and I'm working on it, but I'm lazy. I'm not going to lie, because that's rude.**

**I'm in a really good mood, and I promised this wouldn't be long. Whoops…**

**I also added some humor into this chapter. Tell me what you think about it!**

**Here it is!**

I woke up, and instantly buried my head in a pillow.

But it wasn't mine… Mine were grey. These were white.

I rose up to see where I was, and noticed a different blanket too. I looked around the room and smiled, laying back down, pulling the large blanket over my bare shoulder, and sinking back into the leather of the couch, reaching a hand over and pulling my shirt back to its place on my shoulder. It had a habit of doing that from time to time, something that bothered me if I didn't watch it.

"Sleep well?" I heard a voice ask. I opened my eyes again, seeing Sherlock sitting in his chair, looking over at me, his hands in front of him in the usual prayer position.

I only nodded, and he did the same, turning his head back to look straight ahead, his hands under his chin. I looked closer at him, seeing that he was in the same clothes as last night, and there wasn't a wrinkle in them that would suggest he had rested for any length of time.

"Did you sleep at all?" I asked. He shook his head. "You probably need to, you know. It's bad for you if you don't." I suggested, but he only shrugged.

I rose to a sitting position, rubbing the back of my neck. It was a little sore, but nothing too bad, and my back didn't hurt at all.

"I would have moved you, but I didn't want to risk waking you. You looked comfortable." He said, noticing my rubbing. I smiled.

"It's alright." I answered, taking what he said as Sherlock for 'I'm sorry'. "It's not bad, just a little sore. I'm sure it'll go away." I said as my phone buzzed. I picked it up from the coffee table, seeing a text from my brother.

**FROM: Johnny**

**You awake? And decent?**

I let out a small, inaudible chuckled as I typed back.

**TO: Johnny**

**Yes. Why?**

I put my phone in my pocket, still in my jeans from last night, and walked to the kitchen.

"Coffee or tea?" I said. I never had a preference for one or the other. I liked them both equally, I guess, so whatever he was going to drink, I would make myself a cup as well.

"Tea." He answered.

I had just put the kettle on when my phone buzzed again.

**FROM: Johnny**

**No reason. I just didn't want to interrupt anything.**

I was confused.

**TO: Johnny**

**What?**

I finished the tea, and poured two mugs full, making Sherlock's just how he wanted it, and set it on the table beside him. He didn't move, though. Just looked straight ahead, like a statue. It didn't even look like he was breathing.

**FROM: Johnny**

**Well, I came home last night, and saw you two in the window…**

He explained. I felt my cheeks go red ad I read it. I turned back around, walking up to my bedroom, mug in my hands.

**TO: Johnny**

**Call me.**

Not two minutes later, my phone played the generic, default ringtone. I hadn't changed it since I got my phone, and hadn't thought about doing so.

"Hello." I said.

"So." I could practically hear John's raised eyebrows.

"So." I repeated, mocking his tone of voice. "We kissed. So what?"

"Nothing, I just, thought, maybe…"

"Really, John?" I asked, a bit aggravated, not allowing him to finish. I did laugh a little.

"Well, I-" He didn't finish.

"Nothing happened." I said.

"Are you lying?"  
"No, John, Jesus." I said, irritated.

"I'm sorry, I'm just making sure." He said.

I stayed silent, not knowing what else to say. I heard John laugh a little and a woman's voice in the background.

"Okay, I'll ask her." he said to someone else, laughing. "Sara wants to know if he's a good kisser." I snorted.

"Tell her to mind her own business." I joked. I heard his voice again, away from the phone, and then some racket in the background.

"Okay." I heard Sara's voice instead. "Girl to girl, is he?"

I laughed harder.

"Am I on speaker?" I asked. Sara cackled, and I heard John in the background.

"Why does it matter." He whined in the back.

"Elizabeth!" I heard Sherlock call. Assuming it was important; I told Sara I would text her later, and hung up.

I rushed down the stairs and walked into the living room. Sherlock was no longer sitting in his chair, but was on John's laptop…again, doing God knows what.

"You called?" I asked, announcing my presence. He didn't move a muscle.

"Yes. Are you coming with us today?" He asked.

"Well, of course." I grabbed the chair and sat at the table beside him. "What's going on today?" I asked.

"Going to the car pound with Lestrade. Hopefully getting another call." He explained. I nodded. I didn't want to get another call. I didn't want someone to be in danger, again, because of us, but I knew it was coming, if Sherlock was right, and it was a countdown.

We had three hours to go, and we were standing in a police car pound, Lestrade, John, Sherlock, and I surrounding Monkford's car. John kept looking over at me, an odd look on his face, but I couldn't place it...

"How much blood would you say was on that seat?" Sherlock asked, though I suspected he knew the answer.

"How much? About a pint." Lestrade answered.

"Not 'about'," Sherlock said. "_Exactly_ a pint. That was their first mistake, wouldn't you say?'

"What do you mean?" I looked up at him.

"The blood on the seat. It's been frozen?"

"Frozen?" Lestrade asked.

"There are clear signs. I think Ian Munkford gave a pint of his blood some time ago, and that's what they spread on the seats."

"Who?"

"Janus Cars. The clue's in the name."

"The god with two faces." I said, remembering touching on it briefly in a mythology class I had take a couple of semesters back. Sherlock nodded, and I decided to explain this time to Lestrade, who seemed lost. "They provide a special service. If you happen to have any kind of problem-money troubles, bad marriage, whatever- Janus cars will help you disappear." I looked to Sherlock, just to see if we were on the same page. The tiny, almost invisible smile on his face told me we were.

"Exactly. Ian Munkford was up to his eyes in some kind of trouble-financial, at a guess; he's a banker. Couldn't see a way out. But if he were to vanish, if the car hired was found abandoned with his blood all over the driver's seat…"

"So where is he, then?"

"Columbia." Sherlock slammed the car door.

"Columbia?" I asked. He nodded.

"Mr. Ewert of Janus Cars had a twenty thousand Colombian peso in his wallet. Quite a bit of change, too. He told us he hadn't been abroad recently, but when I asked him about the cars, I could see his tan line clearly." He explained. He was much smarter, I think, than I gave him credit for when I first met him.

"No one wears a shirt on a sunbed. That, plus his arm."

"His arm?" I asked, not remembering anything super unusual about it. It was an arm covered by a long sleeve, though he has demonstrated that he sees what no one else does, so I was in no place to doubt him.

"Kept scratching it. Obviously irritating him, and bleeding. Why? Because he'd recently had a booster jab. Hep-B probably. Difficult to tell at that distance."

"at that distance." I chuckled quietly at the fact that he _could _tell, which wasn't bad, it was just very, _very_, different. Not something you'd expect from someone ordinary.

"Conclusion: he's just come back from settling Ian Munkford into his new life in Colombia. Mrs. Munkford cashes in the life insurance and splits it with Janus Cars."

"Mrs. Monkford?"

"Oh yes, she's in on it too." Sherlock said, a look of pure amusement on his face. I couldn't help but smile a little as well.

"Now go and arrest them, Inspector. That's what you do best." He turned to John and I. "We need to let our friendly bomber know that the case is solved.

He turned and walked away, John and I close at his heels, trying to keep up with his long strides.

"I am on _fire!" _ He exclaimed, triumphantly.

We didn't take off our coats, the flat being much colder tonight than the previous ones, and we were still not allowed to turn on the heating or fire place after the 'gas leak'.

Sherlock sat at his computer, typing away.

"How are you getting his attention?" I asked, sitting in his chair.

"My website." He answered. I raised my eyebrows.

"You have a website?" I asked. He nodded and John laughed a little.

"In which he talks about different types of tobacco ash." He explains.

"And what about this famous blog I've been hearing about?"

It was Sherlock's turn to scoff, just as John had. "How come you told Harry and not me?" I joked. He smiled.

"I thought since you were living it, you wouldn't want to read it." He said, picking his laptop up from the floor beside his chair, flipping the lid.

"Oh, so that's what you write about." I pulled out my phone, and got on the internet, typing John's name in the search bar.

"Yup. Where do you think some of our clients came from?" he asked. I shrugged.

"I don't know. Maybe people are moved by tobacco ash?" I guessed. John suppressed a laugh as I clicked on a link, taking me to John's blog.

We sat in silence, the typing of computer keys coming from either side, as I read John's entries.

The first few blog posts made my heart heavy. He seemed to sad and depressed. Why didn't he call?

Some of the comments, though, made me smile, and I almost asked him about what he had been up to before he went to Afghanistan that caused Bill Murray (not the actor!) to call him 'Casanova'. I laughed a little, earning odd looks from the boys, but I ignored them.

The past several blogs, though, were about him and Sherlock-their first case together, and how they came to be flatmates. I have to say, too, I was impressed with John's writing abilities. When he was younger, he didn't express any interest in it, to my knowledge. For someone who never expressed any interest, he wasn't bad.

"Harry seemed worried." I commented, reading the comments she had posted on John's blog describing Sherlock and John's first little adventure.

"Are you texting her?"

"Nope." I popped the 'p'.

"What are you-are you reading my blog?" he exclaimed. I smiled and nodded.

"Yes. It's very interesting." I commented. He shook his head.

After finishing reading John's post, I searched Sherlock Holmes, just as John said he had, and found his website.

There wasn't much there, but I _did_ find his analysis of tobacco ash, and some things about the cases. Just one sentence, really, enough to let the bomber know he had solved it.

"Really?" Sherlock asked as I read about one of the 243 types of ash. I nodded.

"Why not."

I heard him sigh behind me, before going back to his computer.

We headed to a small little café the next morning, John and I starving. We tucked into our hot, home-cooked breakfasts, while Sherlock tapped his fingers against the table, looking at the phone.

"Feeling better?" Sherlock asked. I nodded.

"You realize we've hardly stopped for breath since this whole thing started." I said, taking a mouthful of sausage.

"Has it ever occurred to you," John began.

"Probably." Sherlock said, and I snorted into my coffee.

"No-has it occurred to you the bomber's playing a game with you?" John asked. I thought about it for a moment, before agreeing with you.

"He's right, Sherlock." I said, looking up at Sherlock, who was sitting right beside me. "The envelope, breaking into the other flat, the dead kid's shoes? It's all meant for you." I finished.

"Yes, I know." He responded, smiling slightly. I sighed.

"Is it him, then. Moriarty."

"Moriarty?" I asked, remembering the name, but not where I heard it. I didn't get an answer.

"Perhaps." Sherlock answered as the phone beeped. Sherlock grabbed it, quickly, opening the message.

"That could be anybody." He said, turning the phone so John and I could see."

"Yeah, it could be." I said. "Lucky for you, though, I've been a little unemployed." I said. "Meaning Mrs. Hudson and I watch a lot of crappy telly." I walked up, grabbed the remote for the TV, and changed the channel. Connie Prince's show came on, Connie Prince herself gesturing to someone on the screen, saying her lines cheerfully. I slipped past Sherlock and sat back down just as the phone rang, and he answered. I leaned in to listen, and he turned it so that I could hear as well.

"Hello?" Sherlock answered.

"This one…is a bit…defective…sorry." An older woman said, quaveringly. "She's blind. This is…a funny one." I looked at Sherlock briefly, before turning my head again, glancing at my brother briefly, whose face was filled of confusion. "I'll give you…twelve hours."

"Why are you doing this?" Sherlock asked.

"I like…to watch you…dance." The woman gasped and sobbed.

Sherlock lowered the phone, and shook his head.

**Again, I'm sorry this was soooo late, and honestly, I don't have a good reason, other than laziness (something that tends to happen a lot….sorry)**

**This was very hard to write, actually, because I didn't want another chapter that had nothing from the episode in it, but I also wanted to add some humor and John's reaction, BUT I didn't want this to be too late. But I have forced myself to sit here and write, and hopefully the next chapter won't be too far behind!**

**Although, I enjoyed writing all of this, but especially the first few sentences. I laughed the whole time! **

**Also, I'm sorry for any spell/ grammar mistakes in this chapter.**

**ReViEwS **

**Will be next week…**

**I'm kidding. Here they are, lovelies!**

so cute, I love the tender side of Sherlock. update soon!  
~StraightFromCrazy  
-

**Hi! Here's you update, love, and I love the tender side of Sherlock, too! Not many fanfictions I read have that (on FanFiction anyway), so I wanted to add it. I think, when he wants to be, he can be a good person. He just has a fine line between work and emotions that is rarely ever crossed, and will take someone very, very special to get him to do so. *cough* Watsons *cough***

loved it.  
~wolviegirl  
-

**So glad ya did! Hope you loved this one as well!**

Well this was a great chapter! It filled in my fan-girl needs ;)  
Just minor things - like I think you were missing the beginning of a sentence in the second part of section/paragraph nine (" , for one, was starving..."), so I just took it as an 'I'. Only minor things like that and a few comma and full stops combined together, as well as Baker Street being one word.  
Sorry if I'm being picky, and I completely understand since you are sick, but if you ever come back to edit this chapter again, there is some feedback to help! :)  
I'm glad my reviews are not too long. I have to say that I still am looking forward to seeing where this is going. One day I will finally finish editing this cursed manuscript and it will, hopefully, be out in the big bad world of publishing. I hope all your writing goes well, and you feel better soon. Allergies always get me in Spring and Autumn, so I know your pain. Rest up if you can! Looking forward to your next chapter too!

\- Elyshia Aislinn –

**Sorry about all of the mistakes, and thank you for picking them out. I don't think you're being picky at all! I am planning on editing that chapter, as I think I said somewhere above, but it won't be very soon. I think when I'm finished with this story, I will come back and revise some things, but nothing major. Just some mistakes.**

**I hope you get published! It's hard, and stressful, but stay strong, because, judging by your reviews, you're a great writer, and anyone who can't see that is a fool, love. If you get rejected, those publisher's didn't need you anyway, and when they see when you ****_are_**** published, and how great you are, they'll be sorry! Good luck!**

Woo! Liked this chapter. Hope you feel better. Snot sucks. I really liked John and Elizabeth reminiscing about their childhood, it makes them and their relationship seem so much more...real. Has more backstory.  
~GraySnowie  
-

**That was actually a request made by a close family member, to add more of John and Elizabeth's past to remind that they are sibling and close family, because they said it was a bit easy to forget while reading. I'm glad you liked it!**

**That's all, folks (Looney Tunes reference there, for ya! And if you don't know what Looney Tunes is…*sigh* I am soo sorry, because you need to.)**

**_May I always live to serve you and your crown_**

**_~Eruaphadriel_**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hello.**

**So I just realized how long and tedious writing this case (or these cases, if you rather) are. I thought this was going to just be a few chapters, like the others! I'm trying to use up as less chapters as I possibly can, so you know what that means? Super extra-long chapters! Probably not as long as chapter…oh, I can't remember which one it was. One that had something to do with The Blind Banker, but it was 17 pages on Google Docs, and 9,000 something words…my sister thought I was crazy, and yes, I am, but I couldn't stop!**

**Oh well. I've enjoyed writing it, and I can't wait to get to Moriarty, because he is amazing. There is an amazing song out there on YouTube by the fabulous Caitlin Oborn called "So Changeable" that is absolutely amazing, if you wish to give it a listen. She also has many more such as "Jumpers and Jam" for Martin Freeman and some for Molly Hooper, Sally Donovan (which is actually kind of funny, called "State of Your Knees"), Sara Sawyer, Anthea, and many more Sherlock related ones as well. I found her recently, and thought I might share her music with other Sherlockians!**

**Any who, here ya are!**

We met up with Lestrade outside of the morgue, and he lead us in, not saying anything, only raising his eyebrows, looking at me, and then to Sherlock. I sent a glare at John, who was smiling, amused.

"Let's go." He said, opening to door. Connie Prince was laying on the table.

"Connie Prince, 54, she had one of those makeover shows on the telly." Lestrade said, reading her information from a paper in his hands. "Did you see it?" he asked Sherlock.

"No."

"Very popular. She was going places." Lestrade informed him as Sherlock walked around Connie Prince's body.

"Not anymore." He said, and John began to walk closer with me following, only moving when he did. Yes I had been in a room with a dead body before, but it still made me a bit uneasy. John said I watched far too many horror movies. I just think I'm cautious; being careful just in case there is some sort of freak, unrealistic accident, and they decided to come back to life…maybe it was a bit irrational.

"So, dead two days. According to one of her staff, Raul de Santos, she cuts her hand on a rusty nail in the garden. Nasty wound. Tetanus bacteria enters the bloodstream,"

"Good night, Vienna." I finished.

"I s'pose." John said, looking at the wound for himself.

"How reliable is the staff." I mumbled, looking at Sherlock. He only smiled.

"Something's wrong with this picture." He said, finally.

"Eh?" Lestrade asked.

"Can't be as simple as it seems, otherwise the bomber wouldn't be directing us towards it, and I think Elizabeth may be onto something." Sherlock mumbled the last part, but I heard it, the comment giving me a small sense of pride. "Something's wrong." He repeated.

He narrowed his eyes, bending to look at her arm, taking the small pocket magnifying glass. He then moved to her face, looking at it just as he had looked at her arm.

"John?"

"Mmm?" John hummed in response.

"Cut on her hand, it's deep. Would have bled a lot, right?" He asked, obviously knowing the answer.

"Yeah."

"But the wound's clean. Very clean, and fresh." He stood to his full height, now, looking at John. "How long would the bacteria have been incubating inside her?" He questioned.

"Ooh, eight or ten days." John answered, making Sherlock grin a little.

"The cut was made later?" I guessed.

"After she was dead?" Lestrade asked.

"Must have been." He answered. "The only question is, how did the tetanus enter the dead woman's system? You want to help, right?" Sherlock looked to John and I.

"Of course." I answered.

"Connie Prince's background-family history, everything, give me data." He commanded. John sprang right to work, leaving the room instantly, and I followed.

"There's something else that we haven't thought of." Lestrade called. I stopped and turned, wanting to hear what he had to say, and so did Sherlock.

"Is there?" He asked.

"Yes. Why is he doing this, the bomber?" He asked. "If this woman's death was suspicious, why point it up?"

"Good Samaritan." I called.

"Who press-gangs suicide bombers?"

"Bad Samaritan." Sherlock said.

"I'm serious, Sherlock. Listen, I'm cutting you slack here, I'm trusting you, but out there somewhere, some poor guy's covered in Semtex and he's just waiting for you to solve the puzzle, so just tell me-what are we dealing with?"

"Something new." Sherlock answered, turning around with a smirk on his face.

I went back to the flat with Sherlock and Lestrade while John went to Kenny Prince's house, Connie's brother.

"Connection, connection, connection." Sherlock repeated, pacing the floor, Lestrade watching him while I sat backwards on the couch, my legs crossed over each other, looking up at the wall, sending the occasional text to Sara. The first message being a _'Yes." _In answer to her previous question: was Sherlock Holmes a good kisser? This sparked a conversation between the two of us, nothing too personal, though, thank goodness. I really liked Sara a lot more that I thought I would.

"There must be a connection." He said. "Carl Powers, killed 20 years ago. The bomber knew him, admitted that he knew him. The bombers iPhone was in the stationary from the Czech Republic. The first hostage from Cornwall, the second from London, the third from Yorkshire, judging by her accent. What's he doing, working his way around the world, showing off?" Sherlock finished as the phone rang, I turned my head to look at him as he answered, putting it on speaker this time.

"_You're enjoying this, aren't you_?" the woman asked. "_Joining the…dots. Three hours. Boom…boom." _She sobbed, and hung up.

I stared at the wall, thinking, but came up with nothing at all.

Mrs. Hudson joined us sometime later, bringing some things to munch on, though I was the only one who ate. She looked at the wall, as well, making conversation with Lestrade and I while Sherlock was on the phone.

"Great." I heard Sherlock say, standing behind me again. "Thank you. Thanks again."

"It's a real shame. I liked her." Mrs. Hudson said in a soft voice. "She taught me how to do me colors." I turned to look at her.

"Colors?" I asked.

"You know, what goes best with what." She motioned to her clothes. "I should never wear cerise, apparently. Drains me."

"Who's that?" Lestrade asked Sherlock.

"Home Office."

"Home Office?" Lestrade repeated, shocked.

"Well, Home Secretary, actually. Owes me a favor."

"She was a pretty girl, but the messed about with herself too much. They all do these days. People can hardly move their faces. It's silly isn't it?" She giggled. "Did you ever see her show?" He asked.

"Not until now." Sherlock grabbed his laptop, opening it and playing a video. I stood to see it as well.

_"You look pasty, love"_

_"Ah, rained everyday but one."_

"That's her brother. No love loss there, if you believe the papers." Mrs. Hudson explained over Connie and Kenny's conversation.

"So I gather." Sherlock mumbled. "I've just been having and very fruitful conversation with people who love this show. The fan site's indispensable for gossip.

_"…really only one thing we can do with that ensemble, don't you think girls? Off, off, off, off…_" Connie and the audience chanted as she hit his shoulders repetitively.

Sherlock's phone rang several minutes later.

"John." He answered. I heard his muffled voice over the phone, and Sherlock grabbed his coat, and tapped my shoulder, telling me to follow, handing me a notepad.

"I'll remember."

We walked into the large house, lead in by Raoul.

"That'll be them." I heard John say, as Sherlock and I walked into the room, I was carrying large bag Sherlock handed me in the taxi and the notepad, while he carried a tripod.

"Ah, Mr. Prince, is it?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Very good to meet you."

"Yes; thank you." He said as the two shook hands.

"So sorry to hear about…" He trailed off.

"Yes, yes very kind."

"Shall we…' I said, ready to get this whole thing over with.

Kenny turned his back, messing with his hair.

"You were right." John said "the bacteria got in another way." John explained while Sherlock reached into the bag I set on the couch, pulling out a camera, handing it to me.

"Oh, yes?" He asked.

"Yes."

"Right we're all set?" Kenny asked.

"Er, yes. Shall we, erm…?" John and Sherlock moved towards Kenny, Sherlock motioning me forward to take pictures.

"Not to close. I'm raw from crying." Kenny told me as I took one picture after another.

"Oh, whose this?" I heard Sherlock ask. I turned to see him looking at him foot, and I followed his eyes to find a cat rubbing on his leg, making its way towards me. It was a Sphinx, a hairless cat, which I loved. People say they're ugly, but I thought they were like cute little aliens. Plus, with my allergies, I could own one, and not sneeze 24/7 because they didn't have much hair at all, giving them a hairless appearance. Nevertheless, I was immediately fond.

"Sekhmet. Named after the Egyptian goddess." Kenny said as I handed the camera to Sherlock and plucked the cat from the ground and held it in my arms as it purred loudly. I smiled and looked at Sherlock, who was sending an odd look my way, but I brushed it off.

"How nice. Was she Connie's?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, a little present from yours truly." Kenny explained.

"Sherlock, light reading?" John suggested.

"Oh, er…" Sherlock said, pulling something out from the bag, and flashing the light in Kenny's eyes, while John moved over to me, rubbing the cat's paw.

"What's going on?" Kenny asked.

"Actually I think we've got what we came for, Excuse us." John said, as Sherlock followed him, and I placed the cat in Kenny's arms.

"We've got deadlines." John called to us.

"But you've not taken anything." Kenny said.

John began to laugh as soon as we were out of the door. "Yes! Ooh, yes!" he said, excitedly.

"You think it was the cat. It wasn't the cat." Sherlock said, amused.

"What?" John asked. "Yeah, yeah it is. It must be. It's how he got the tetnus into her system. It's paws stink of disinfectant."

"Lovely idea." Sherlock responded.

"No, he coated it onto the claws of her cat. It's a new pet, bound to be a bit jumpy around her. A scratch is almost inevitable. She wouldn't…"

"I thought of it the minute I saw the scratches on her arm, but it's too random and too clever for the brother. Also, you saw the cat with Elizabeth, it's obviously very friendly."

"Love that cat." I said quietly to myself.

"He murdered his sister for her money." John said.

"Did he?"

"Didn't he?"

"Nope. It was revenge." Sherlock concluded.

"Rev…? Who wanted revenge?"

"Raoul the houseboy. Kenny Prince was the butt of his sister's jokes week in, week out."

"Know how that feels." John joked, bumping into me slightly, causing me to lean over, almost falling into Sherlock. I laughed and hit him back.

"Shut up." I said.

"Virtual bullying campaign. Finally he had enough, fell out with her badly. It's all on the website. She threatened to disinherit Kenny, Raoul had grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle…"

"Wait. Wait! Wait a second." John said, stopping us from walking any further. "What about the cat's claws?"

"Raoul keeps a very clean house. You came through the kitchen door, saw the state of that floor-scrubbed within an inch of its life. You two smell of disinfectant. I know the cat doesn't come into it. Raoul's internet records do, though. I hope we can get a cab from here." He said, walking away.

We finally found one to take us back to Scotland Yard, and on the way, Sherlock gave me the same look he did at Connie's house.

"What?" I asked.

"You abandoned the camera-stopped helping-to hold a cat? An ugly cat at that?"

"Hey, I didn't stop helping. If anything, I helped John."

"Yes, with his wrong idea."

"I think he did good. We can't all be as good as you.

"Thank you Elizabeth. Though on reflection, it was a little silly." John laughed.

"A little." I said. I couldn't deny, but it was a good idea.

"And, it was cute." Sherlock chuckled.

"Was not. That was the ugliest cat I had ever seen.

"He's right." John said.

"Shut up, you two. I thought it was cute. I like cats."

"Yeah, you like cats a lot." John said, before looking at Sherlock.

"You know, when she was younger, about fifteen or so, we always thought she was going to be an old cat lady." He laughed. Sherlock chuckled as well. "She, on the other hand, _knew_ she was going to be an old cat lady. It was her dream."

"It's still my dream." I laughed. "Have you seen that show Animal Hoarders? Yeah, it would be kind of like that, but less messy." I said, causing them to laugh harder. "I once told mom that the only time I would need math was to count how many cats I had, and that I didn't think I would be able to count that high."

"That isn't healthy." Sherlock chuckled.

"I don't care." I said, and I saw the cabbie's shoulders shake a bit as well as our laughter died down a bit.

"We should get a cat."

"Oh, god no. You won't be able to stop." Sherlock joked, and I laughed.

We had an hour to go as we walked into Scotland Yard, Sherlock holding a folder that he had brought with him in the camera bag.

"Raoul de Santos is your killer." He said, holding the folder into the air for Lestrade to see. "Kenny Prince's houseboy. Second autopsy shows it wasn't tetanus that poisoned Connie Prince, it was botulinum toxin." He said, as he walked towards Lestrade. I stopped to stand by John a few feet away.

'We've been here before. Carl Powers. Tut-tut. Our bomber's repeated himself." He said, following Lestrade, John and I moving to join them.

"So how'd he do it?" Lestrade asked.

"Botox injection."

"Botox?"

"Botox is a diluted form of botulinum. Among other things, Raoul de Santos was employed to give Connie her regular facial injection. My contact at the Home Office gave me the complete records of Raoul's internet purchases." He said, pointing at the envelope. "He's been bulk ordering Botox for months. Bided his time, then upped the strength to a fatal dose." He explained.

"Are you sure about this?" Lestrade asked.

"I'm sure."

"All right, my office." Lestrade said, moving past John, Sherlock, and I.

"Hey, Sherlock." I said, stopping him while John went on with Lestrade. "How long?" I asked.

"What?"

"How long have you known?"

"Well, this one was quite simple. And like I said, the bomber repeated himself. That was a mistake." He said, going to Lestrade's office but I stopped him again.

"No, Sherlock, the hostage, the old woman, she's been there all this time!" I said, angrily. She could have been saved hours ago, and I know she must be terrified, God knows I would be.

"I knew I could save her." Sherlock said, leaning closer, staring at me intensely. "I also knew that the bomber had given us twelve hours. I solved the case quickly, that gave me time to get on with other things. Don't you see? We're one up on him." He explained, walking away, while I stood there for a moment, staring at the wall, before taking a deep breath and following after him.

I stayed silent the rest of the time in Lestrade's office, leaning against the wall, while Sherlock typed on Lestrade's laptop, and the phone rang again.

"Hello." Sherlock answered. I pushed off of the wall, standing beside Lestrade so I could hear, though he kept it off speaker.

"Tell us where you are. Address?" he said, then there was a silence again as we waited. "No, no, no, no! Tell me nothing about him, nothing." He told her.

"Hello?" Sherlock asked into the phone, though it was no use.

"Sherlock?" Lestrade asked, leaning down as Sherlock put the phone down slowly. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, knowing what happened.

"What's happened?" John asked, before they realized it too.

The ride back to Baker Street was silent, Sherlock thinking, more than likely, while John and I were still upset. I was a bit more shaken, knowing the woman could have been saved hours before, and honestly, a little upset with Sherlock. Maybe a little was an understatement.

As soon as we got to the flat, I went straight to bed, not even bothering to say goodnight.

I heard the television on as soon as I woke up. I grabbed my robe and tied it, heading down the stairs, not bothering to brush my hair or anything.

John and Sherlock were sitting in their chairs, watching the news, as I walked to the kitchen for breakfast.

_"The explosion, which ripped through several floors, killing twelve people…_"

"Old block of flats." John said.

"_…caused by a faulty gas main. A spokesman from the utility company…_"

"He certainly gets about." I said.

"Well, obviously I lost that round." Sherlock mumbled.

"You think?"

"Although technically I did solve the case." He said, muting the TV. "He killed the old lady because she started to describe him." He explained. "It wasn't because we were late." He looked to me, catching my eye, knowing I was still angry from last night. "Just once he put himself in the firing line."

"What d'you mean?" John asked.

"Well usually he…must stay above it all. He organizes things, but no-one ever has direct contact."

"Like the Connie Prince murder?" John asked. "He arranged that?"

"So people come to him wanting their crimes fixed up, like booking a holiday?" I guessed.

"Novel." He whispered.

"Huh!" I turned the corner to look at the TV, when Raoul de Santos's face came on the screen. He was surrounded by reporters and officers, being lead to a car in front of the house."

"Taking his time, this time." Sherlock noticed, looking at the phone on the arm of his chair.

"Anything on the Carl Powers case?" John asked quietly.

"Nothing. All the living classmates check out spotless, no connections."

"Maybe the killer was older than Carl?" I guessed.

"The thought had occurred."

"So why is he doing this, then?" John asked. "Playing this game with you. Do you think he wants to be caught?"

"I think he wants to be distracted."

"Oh…I hope you two are very happy together." I said.

"Sorry, what?" He asked. I walked into the living room, behind John's chair to look at him, forgetting about breakfast.

"I'm going to have a shower." John said, leaving the room quickly, going towards the bathroom.

"There are lives at stake. Sherlock. Actual human lives! Just so I know, do you care about that at all?"

"Will caring about the help save them?"

"Nope. " I answered, honestly.

"Then I'll continue not to make that mistake."

"And you find that easy, do you? Because I don't."

"Yes, very. Is that news to you?"

"No, not at all." I said quietly.

I sat there for a minute, not moving.

"I've disappointed you." Sherlock said finally.

"That's a good deduction, yeah."

"Don't make people into heroes, Watsons." Sherlock said, and I turned to find John still in the kitchen. "Hero's don't exist, and if they did I wouldn't be one of them." He said, as the phone beeped and this time, I heard the shower running.

"Excellent." He said, taking the phone and opening the message. "A view of the Thames." He told me. "South Bank, somewhere between Southwark Bridge and Waterloo." I looked down and John's blanket on the back of the chair, rubbing away at the creases where someone had carelessly thrown it on the chair, and I sighed. "You check the papers, I'll look online." Sherlock commanded, but I didn't move. "Oh, you're angry with me, so you won't help. Not much cop, this caring lark." I stayed where I was a few more seconds, before moving to the couch, picking up a paper, and began reading.

"Archway suicide…" I read out loud.

"Ten-a-penny." Sherlock said, quickly.

"Two kids stabbed in Stoke Newington." I read, not exactly sure what I was supposed to be looking for. "Ah, man found on the train line. Andrew West." I said, recalling Mycroft's visit.

"Nothing." Sherlock said, dialing and number. "It's me. Have you got anything on the South Bank between Waterloo Bridge and Southwark Bridge?" He asked into the phone. I assumed he was taking to Lestrade.

**So, another, kind of, filler, and tensions rise between Elizabeth and Sherlock…**

**I loved writing this chapter (especially with the cats!), and I'm sorry I've been away for so long. Final exams are the worst!**

**But, I am almost finished with them! I have Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday of next week, and then I'm free! Sweet, sweet freedom!**

**Anyway, Review time!**

Well, hello again :)

Glad to know you are getting better! Being sick is really terrible. On the First/Third POV, you should do whatever keeps it interesting for you. I would love some interesting other POV's, if you plan on doing them, and I think Elizabeth may work in third, if you feel like doing it, but it may be confusing (the sudden change and all). I probably have more of a liking to first person because it engages you with the character narrating better, and makes it easier to relate too. That's probably just me though :) Do whatever you feel like.

I'm looking forward to the rest of this with bated breath!  
I loved this chapter :)

-Elyshia Aislinn-

-

**Hi!**

**I am planning on doing some different POV's, but I've decided to keep Elizabeth in the third person, because, as you said, the abrupt change could be a bit confusing. It's not just you, though. I remember back in middle schools, I would only read books in first person for that very reason. Know I read tham in all sorts of POVs, but I loved first person, and I still do.**

**I'm glad you liked the chapter, and I hope you like this one as well!**

Amazing loved it. Is Sherlock a great kisser?

-

**Glad you liked it! And I think he would be. He's Sherlock Holmes! He's good at practically everything (With a few exceptions, such as remembering the Solar System!)**

**And that's all I got for this chapter, I believe! Hope you liked this one, and don't forget about our goals!**

**100 follows and favorites**

**And 90 reviews but the next chapter**

**Though, I'll go ahead and bump it up to chapter 20 :)**

**As of right now, we have**

**36 Reviews**

**75 follwers and 46 favorites, making that a total of 121!**

**Reached one goal. Just 14 more reviews! Whoo!**

**Anyway, I'll get off of here, and I have a three day weekend to write and get somethings finished!**

**_May I always live to serve you and your crown._**

**Eruaphadriel**


	15. Chapter 15

**Oh, wow! An update! Sorry I haven't been writing lately. I had finals to study for, but I'm free now, and I have all summer to write! Whoo!**

**Also, I have found new additions, two that I will not apologize for or be ashamed of. Star Trek, and, yes, House of Anubis.**

**I watched it religiously when it first came out, and then I just kind of weaned myself away from it, not purposefully, that's just kind of how it happened, but, I was reminded of it the other day, and it reminded me of how much I loved it, and now...yeah. And then I realized Eugene Simon, who played Jerome, one of my favorite characters on HoA, is in Game of Thrones. **

**But he's a stinking Lannister….Why?!**

**Star Trek is my grandfathers and BBC America's fault. Blame them.**

**I also have a funny story to tell-well it's not really funny, like make-you-laugh funny, but coincidentally fun..you guys are smart, you know what I mean.**

**So, I had just finished my last day of schools, and I just finished my last spanish class. I mean, I was finished with spanish. I had no more spanish classes that I was required to take, nothing! Done! Finished! I rejoiced, because I hated spanish! Notice the past tense.**

**So I went on youtube, and looked up one of my favorite artists, names Daniela Andrade, and I saw that she had some new songs that I had yet to listen too. So I laid there and listened, and then I found one that I loved. I mean, LOVED. I loved the chords, and probably mostly the way she sung it, because her voice is amazing, but the funny thing is...it is ALL in spanish. **

**All of it.**

**So, right after I finished Spanish classes, that's when I get the motivation to learn.**

**...sounds like my life.**

**Anyway, just thought that was kind of funny the way that happened. I'll shut up now, and let you guys go on.**

**Also, extra long chapter since you guys have been so patient. Love you!**

As soon as John wa out of the shower and dressed, we left to meet Lestrade at the south bank of the Thames. Sherlock had already hailed a cab, and was sitting inside when we walked out.

I was still a bit upset with Sherlock. John somehow noticing this, pushed past me to sit in between us in the cab, where he usually lets me sit beside Sherlock.

"It's rude to not let a lady go first." Sherlock said, looking down at his phone.

"Oh, he was being rude." I mumbled, rolling my eyes.

"Stop it. We're not going to do this." John said, stopping the upcoming argument early.

I stared out of the window as we rode to the Thames. I knew Sherlock was never going to change, and it was something I was going to have to get used to, but he could at least try, right?

When we arrived, I jumped out of the car, and practically ran over to Lestrade. Over the past few days, and the time between cases, Lestrade and I had become really good friends. Him, John, and I sometimes went out to lunch when he was on his break, and when John was working, it was just us two. I invited Sherlock numerous times, but each time, he refused. I always just shrugged it off, and went alone.

"Hey, Elizabeth." Lestrade greeted, nodding at Sherlock and John as they arrived behind me.

"D'you reckon this is connected, then. The bomber?" I asked out loud, the question meant for everyone.

"Must be. Odd though." Sherlock answered, holding up the pink phone. "He hasn't been in touch.

"But we must assume that some poor bugger's primed to explode, yeah?"

"Yes." Sherlock answered.

"Any ideas?" I asked.

"Seven...so far."

"Seven?" Lestrade asked.

"Are you surprised?" I asked. Lestrade gave me an odd look, but let it go.

Sherlock bent down to examine the body, while I hung back with Lestrade.

"Is everything alright with you two?" He asked, pointing to Sherlock and I. I nodded.

"Peachy." I said, a bit sarcastically. Lestrade only nodded, not pushing me any farther.

"He's been dead twenty-four hours-maybe bit longer." John said, examining the body as well. "Did he drown?" I asked, seeing as we were beside the Thames, and he looked as if he had taken a dip.

"Apparently not." Lestrade answered. "Not enough Thames in his lungs."

"Asphyxiated, then?" I guessed. Lestrade nodded, while John voiced his agreement, Sherlock, though, stayed silent, scrolling through his phone like he was at the flat and in the cab.

"There's quite a bit of bruising around the nose and mouth." John showed us.I kneeled next to him, looking at the man's face where he was pointing. "More bruises here and here." I pointed out the faint purple marks on the man's face. Sherlock glanced at them.

"Fingertips." He said, going back to the screen, and John stood, pulling me up with him.

"In his late thirties, I'd say. Not in the best condition." John stated. I nodded, listening.

"He's been in the river a long while." Sherlock butted in. "The water's destroyed most of the data. But I tell you one thing. The lost Vermeer painting's a fake." He said, quirking a grin. I had studied Vermeer in one of my art classes, and was kind of excited about the painting when I had first heard about it.

I had smiled uncontrollably the rest of the day.

"_What are you so happy about?"_ Sherlock had asked, coming into the living room, eating a cookie that Mrs. Hudson helped me make.

"_They found a Vermeer painting."_ I replied. He nodded, but looked a little confused.

"_Favorite artist?" _He guessed. I shook my head quickly.

"_No! My favorite's Van Gogh, but I like Vermeer a little, too."_ Sherlock smiled.

"_Well, we'll have to make a date to see it at the grand opening, won't we."_ He kissed the top of my head, before walking back to his bedroom.

"_Hey! Don't eat all of those. Save some for John!" _ I called to him, as he took another one off of the pan.

"Well, that's a bummer." I mumbled.

"Sorry, love." Sherlock said, looking to me. I smiled back at him, not as angry as I was before.

"Wait, what painting?" Lestrade asked. "What are you talking about?"

"It's all over the place? Haven't you seen the posters?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah." I agreed. "Dutch Old Master, supposed to have been destroyed ages ago; now it's turned up. Worth thirty million pounds." I explained with a smile. I felt Sherlock nudge my shoulder, and I looked at him. He was smiling at me, and I smiled back.

"Okay, first off, get a room, secondly, what has the painting got to do with the stiff?" Lestrade asked. Sherlock sighed and looked away from me, to Lestrade.

"Everything. Ever heard of the Golem?" He asked. I nodded.

"Golem?" Lestrade asked. I grinned a little.

"Did he lose his precious?" I asked causing Lestrade and John to chuckle, while Sherlock looked at me, confused. "Remind me to let you watch those sometime." I said, patting his shoulder, waiting for him to continue.

"It's a horror story, isn't it?" John asked. "What are you saying?"

"Jewish folk story. A gigantic man made of clay. It's also the name of an assassin-real name Oskar Dzundza-one of the deadliest assassins in the world. This is his trademark style." He explained.

"So this is his hit?" Lestrade asked. "This is the one who took his precious." he smiled at me. I laughed, looking to Sherlock, who was clearly not amused.

"What are you laughing about? What's so funny?" He asked. I shook my head.

"Yesh, you are so watching those in the very near future, whether you want to or not." I stated. Sherlock took a deep breath, and went on with business.

"The Golem squeezes the life out of his victims with his bare hands."

"But what does that have to do with the painting?" Lestrade asked. "I don't see…"

"You see, you just don't observe."

"Alright, alright, girls, calm down." John said. I giggled a little, silently.

"Sherlock. D'you want to take us through it?" I said, though it was more of a demand than a question.

"What do we know about this corpse? The killer's not left us with much-just the shirt and the trousers."

"They're slightly formal." I said, butting in. "Maybe he was going somewhere for the night?" I guessed.

"But the trousers are heavy-duty." Sherlock corrected. "Polyester, nasty, same as the shirt-cheap. They're both too big for him, so some kind of standard-issue uniform."

"Dressed for work then. "I nodded. "What kind of work?"

"There's a hook on his belt for a walkie-talkie."

"Tube driver?" Lestrade asked. Sherlock threw him a look, which screamed 'idiot', and I hit his arm.

"Security guard?" John guessed.

"more likely. That'll be borne out by his backside."

"Backside?" I asked, waiting for him to elaborate.

"Flabby. You'd think that he's lead a sedentary life, yet the soles of his feet and the nescent varicose veins in his legs show otherwise."

"So, a lot of walking and sitting around. Security guards is looking good."

"The watch helps too. The alarm shows he did regular night shifts."

"Why regular?" Lestrade asked. "Maybe he just set the alarm the night before he died." Lestrade attempted to prove Sherlock wrong, or stump him in some way. I knew it wouldn't work.

"No-no-n, the buttons are too stiff, hardly touched. He set his alarm like that a long time ago. His routine never varied. But there's something else. The killer must have been interrupted, otherwise he would have stripped the corpse completely."

"I'm extremely glad he didn't." I muttered, causing a small chuckle to come from Sherlock, the only one who heard me, as he continued. John and Lestrade both stared at us both laughing, John and a small smile, and Lestrade, confused, but holding a smile back himself.

"There was some kind of badge or insignia on the shirt front that he tore off, suggesting he dead man worked somewhere recognisable, some kind of institution. Found these in his pocket" He took something from his pocket. It was a small ball of what looked like paper of some sort. I couldn't really tell, though. "Soddened by the river , but still recognisably-"

"Tickets?" I guessed, leaning a little to look.

"Ticket stubs. He worked in a museum o gallery. Did a quick check-the hickman Gallery has reported one of it's attendants as missing." He pointed to the body. "Alex Woodbridge. Tonight they unveil the re-discovered masterpiece. Now why would anyone want to pay the Golem to suffocate a perfectly ordinary gallery attendant? inference: the dead man knew something about it-something that would stop the owner getting pain thirty million pounds. The picture's a fake.

"Fantastic." John said, but Sherlock just shrugged.

"Meretricious."

"And a Happy New Year." Lestrade added. I laughed, while John threw him a look. Lestrade grinned a little. "Elizabeth thought it was funny.

"That's because it was, a bit." I admitted, the four of us going silent again.

"Poor sod. John finally said, looking down at the body again.

"I'd better get my feelers out for this Golem character." Lestrade said.

"Pointless, you'll never find him. But I know a man who can." Sherlock said. I knew what was coming.

"Who?"

"Me."

There it is.

Sherlock walked away, and John and I followed, as we always did.

"Why hasn't he phoned?" Sherlock said, staring at the phone in frustration. I was sitting in the middle, after pushing past John, not liking sitting by the window. I nudged Sherlock's shoulder.

"Awe, is your boyfriend avoiding you?" I asked, playfully. Sherlock sent me a look through the corner of his eyes, yet he smiled a little. "according to Mrs. Hudson, though, your boyfriends right here." I nodded to John, who sighed, angrily.

"I am not gay. Sherlock and I are not a couple, and never have been. You know, you, of all people, should know that, considering you two are dating."

With this, Sherlock leaned forward, looking past me to John.

"What?" He asked.

"Aren't you?" John asked. "I mean, it's pretty obvious you two like each other. and I caught you kissing after my date with Sara." He admitted.

"Well I knew that."

I turned to Sherlock.

"You knew, and didn't say anything?" I asked. He shrugged.

"I didn't want to."

I didn't say anything. I just smiled.

"But that doesn't mean we're dating. Does it?" Sherlock asked, turning to me.

"Not necessarily. Unless, you want to."

"Never said I didn't." He shook his head. I grinned at him, confused, and he grinned back, leaning in only a quarter of an inch, before John had enough.

"Alright, but listen, both of you. If you are going to date, there are some rules. First off, no doing 'that' in my presence." John stated. I laughed, while Sherlock rolled his eyes, placing a finger on my chin, tilting my head towards his, and placing a quick kiss on my lips. "I'm dead serious Sherlock. That is _my _little sister, and I would rather not see that." John yelled, I saw the cabbies shoulders shake with laughter, as I threw my head back, laughing as well, Sherlock grabbing my hand, sending my a smile, our argument from this morning, forgotten, and all forgiven, while John pouted,still annoyed.

This was going to be fun.

**Wow, wow, wow, this is late, oh my gosh, I'm SO sorry, I can't begin to tell you how upset I am with myself, I'm grounded, now. I grounded myself…**

**Anyway , I hope you enjoyed, and I am so happy to be adding little scenes like the last one in. I love writing those, and coming up with those. They make me laugh along with the trio.**

**Before I do the reviews, I want to talk to you guys about something…**

**Of course, I am up for any kind of awareness, whether it's making people more aware about cancer, or ALS, or anything else, but this month is hitting home for me. June is many things, but it is also National Scoliosis Month, June 27th being National Scoliosis Day. **

**Scoliosis is an abnormal curvature of the spin, ranging from mild (10-25 degree curve), moderate(26-40), and severe(anything above 40 degrees). This affects 2-3% of the population (1 in every 40 people), and, depending on the case, can be extremely painful or uncomfortable to the one who has it. Some are able to live a long time, sometimes their whole lives, not knowing that they have it, while some are fully aware. I am one of the latter.**

**October 2014 (last year) I found out that I had moderate lumbar scoliosis, occurring in my lower back. My grandmother, upon hugging me goodbye, noticed that my back one uneven, one side higher than the other, like it was swollen. My mom said that she could tell (of course we didn't know what exactly we were looking for until the doctor told us.) My head has a slight tilt, my shoulders and hips are uneven, my clothes don't fit right, fatigued after physical activity of any kind, one leg is shorter than the other, back pain, leg pain, pain in my ribs, etc. **

**The thing that really bugs me, is it's not rare, yet some don't even know what it is, or have even heard of it, and no it's not fatal as most, but it still takes a mental, emotional, and physical toll on everyone who has it. Every day I wake up, I notice it, and sometimes I'm able to put it out of my mind, and then I look in the mirror, and see myself, and look at my back, and I remember, whether I think of it as a good thing or a bad thing, I know it's there, and I know I'm not normal, and I know I'm not the only one who thinks while it seems there is a lot of bad in scoliosis, there is some good too. I have met some really great people that I can talk to. And, on a humorous note, I'm curvy…**

**Not as funny….ah alright then.**

**I didn't mean to say that much, to be honest. I had a destination, and I made a lot of side stops along the way.**

**On June 27th, I would like to ask you guys, if you don't mind, to wear green for Scoliosis awareness. Like I said, you don't have to, but it would mean a lot if you did, not just to me, but to a lot of others.**

**Also, I might be late again updating because of it. I am going back to the doctors soon to get it checked, so...yeah.**

**And, just as a bit of a disclaimer, because this has been said before, I'm not doing this to get attention, I'm doing this to raise awareness, and I consider you guys friends. You tell your friends things like this, yeah?**

**Anyway, here are your lovely reviews!**

I love it! Please update again soon! :)

~Aranel Silvertongue

**Thanks, dear! Glad you like it, and I hope you liked this chapter as well. Sorry it was so short, though. The next chapter will be longer, promise!**

**Also, I love your name!**

Loved the cat parts too. Please update again soon.

-wolviegurl

**So happy you liked it! Thank you for reviewing.**

Hello! :)

I loved how you incorporated Elizabeth into these scenes. The sibling banter is great, and I can't wait for more. I relate to Elizabeth in loving cats, and I used to think I would grow up to be a crazy cat lady...may still might ;)

Looking forward to reaching those all important goals!

Have a great weekend!

By my hand and seal,

\- Elyshia Aislinn -

**Hi, dear! How are you?**

**I've been trying to add more sibling moments between Elizabeth and John, and hopefully they will have a day together in the near future…**

**And I'm almost 99.9% positive I will become a crazy old cat lady. I adore those little hairballs (even though they make me sneeze like crazy!)**

**I think we are getting really close, too, with the goals. I am super psyched about it, even though I am terrified :) **

**Thank you for reviewing! (And I love your sign off, by the way!)**

**I think that's all for now, folks! The next chapter will be much longer, though. Sorry this one was so short. My internet at my dad's is slower, and I write on Google Docs, so It's kind of frustrating, but I've been doing little bits at a time.**

**See you guys later!**

_**May I always live to serve you and your crown.**_

**~Eruaphadriel**


	16. Chapter 16

'**Ello guys! How are ya?**

**Sorry about not getting much writing done. I got busy, and then I've just been lazy. Oops.**

**But I'm back!**

**I don't have much to say here, so I'll let you guys get to it!**

"So, where now? The Gallery?" John asked, trying to change the subject.

"I a bit." Sherlock answered, still smiling a little.

"The Hickman's contemporary art, yes? Why have they got a hold of an Old Master?" I finally realised.

"Dunno. Dangerous to jump to conclusions. Need a data." Sherlock told me, getting out a notebook and writing something down on a slip of paper, before folding a banknote inside of it. I looked at him, suspiciously, but didn't say anything. "Stop!" He called to the driver, and the cabbie pulled over. "Wait here. I'll only be a moment." He got out of the cab, jumping over a fence, and John followed with me at his heels. I stayed at the fence, though, trying to catch a glimpse at what they were doing, but saw nothing. They came back a few minutes later.

"What were you doing?" I asked.

"Investing." came his simple reply, as we pile back into the cab. "Now we go to the gallery." He smiled at me. I felt stomach flip. I hadn't gotten the chance to see many sights in London, sadly. There were thousands of galleries and museums that I wanted to visit, and so many other buildings, too, but I never got the chance, like I wanted to. I didn't regret going with John and Sherlock, though I do wish I had taken some more time to do some looking around.

"Have you got any cash?" Sherlock asked? John sighed, and nodded.

We arrived at the hickman Gallery, and I jumped out after Sherlock. John got out afterwards, but Sherlock stopped him.

"No, I need you to find out everything you can about the gallery attendant. Lestrade will give you the address." He explained. John muttered an "Okay" before the cab drove off again. Sherlock spun to look at me, and sent me a smile. "Now, you and I have a painting to see." He offered his arm. I smiled widely and laced my arm with his.

"I looked silly." I whined, staring down at the security guard outfit. Sherlock was wearing the same thing, though his didn't look that bad...at all. "It's so loose, and while I liked loose clothing, this made me look like a child who had gone through her father's closet."

"You look fine." Sherlock said, putting the hat on my head.

"The only fun part about this, is the sleeves." I said, waving the sleeves that surpassed my hands, in the air, hitting Sherlock in the arm once or twice. He glared at me and I laughed.

"You not only look like a child, but you're acting like one t-would you stop." He said, as I hit him again. I laughed, my face going red, but he wasn't amused, as he took my arms and rolled up my sleeves.

"But that was fun." I whined.

"For you."

We walked out into one of the gallery's corridors, finding our way to the painting. Sherlock was right. We could get in almost anywhere. this part of the gallery wasn't even open to the public yet. Sherlock just told a few little lies, and we were in.

"I rushed to the painting, eager to see it.

"Too bad it's fake." I purse my lips. Sherlock walked up behind me, coming to stand at my side.

I heard footsteps-heels- and reached for Sherlock's hand. He patted it, before letting it go as the footsteps came closer.

"Don't you two have something to do?" She asked.

"Just admiring the view." Sherlock answered, not turning. I didn't either, instead looking straight at the painting, only moving my eyes.

"Yes. Lovely. No get back to work. We open tonight." She explained.

"Does it bother you?" He asked, walking towards, her. I turned to look at her, but didn't move.

"What?"

"That the painting's a fake." He answered.

"What?" She asked again, angrily.

"It's a fake, it has to be. It's the only possible explanation. You're in charge here, aren't you Ms. Wenceslas?" He asked, reading her name badge.

"Who are you?" She asked, looking at Sherlock, and then to me. I still hadn't moved from my spot, meanwhile, Sherlock walked closer to her, looking her in the eyes, not answering.

"Alex Woodbridge knew the painting was a fake, so somebody sent the Golem to take care of him. Was it you?"

"Golem? What are you talking about?" She asked. I almost said something Lord of the Rings related, but I kept my mouth shut, knowing I would receive a glare from both of them.

"Or are you working for someone else? Did you fake it for them?"  
"It's not a fake." She insisted.

"It is fake. Don't know why, but there's something wrong with it." He told her.

"You know I could have you sacked on the spot. Both of you." She said, looking back to me, knowing I was somehow affiliated with this.

"Not a problem." Sherlock told her.

"No?"

"No." He confirmed. "We don't work here, you see. Just popping in to give you some friendly advice."

"How did you get in?" She asked.

"Please." Sherlock said, like it was obvious, which it kind of was.

"I want to know."

"The art of disguise is knowing how to hide in plain sight." He turned and walked away taking off his cap, flipping mine off as well when he reached me, the hat falling behind me, into the floor. I laughed a little. I followed him, leaving it on the ground.

"Who are you?" She asked again.

"Sherlock Holmes, and Elizabeth Watson." He called back.

"Am I supposed to be impressed?" She asked.

"You should be." He said, taking off the jacket. I kept mine, though.

He opened the door, and walked out, while I turned and looked at her. "Have a nice day!" I smiled, rushing to follow him.

We got a cab quickly, and I immediately took my jacket off, pulling it over me like a blanket, laying my head against the window, closing my eyes, trusting Sherlock to wake me up when we got to wherever we were going. This whole day had me tuckered out long before my bedtime.

"Tiered?" Sherlock asked, quietly. I opened my eyes to look at him. He was by the other window, but he didn't like Sherlock much at all. His gaze was soft, unlike his usual cold, uncaring look. He looked much more human than the Sherlock I met a few weeks prior, and I could tell that this human side was coming out more often.

I nodded, and he scooted to the middle, taking his coat off as well, putting it in the seat beside him. "Come here." He said softly, holding out his arm, and I scooted to his side, laying my head on his shoulder, and he grabbed his coat, wrapping it around my instead of the security guards coat. His was much longer, and a lot warmer than the thinner jacket, which I discarded into the floor.

Sherlock wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him, and I was lulled to sleep.

When I woke up, no one was home. I was on the couch, covered by the blanket from the back of John's chair. I pushed it off of me, and walked around to the kitchen, looking for someone, but no one was there. I walked back to Sherlock's room then, knocking on the door, which was wide open, but I just knocked to make sure. When no one answered, I peeked in. The room was clean, which I made me chuckle a little seeing as the rest of the flat was a bit of a disorganized mess at times, but no Sherlock. The bathroom door was open, and the light was on, so no one was in there. Sighing, I pulled out my phone, and sent a text to both of the boys.

**TO:Sherlock, Johnny**

**Where are you?**

And then I waited, heating up a frozen meal, grabbing a chair, pulling it to the window. I pulled my legs up, stared out at London and ate, waiting for an answer.

A few minutes later, my phone rang, but it wasn't a text. I picked it up confused, when the caller ID flashed 'Mom'. I almost didn't answer.

"Hello?" I answered. I heard my mother yelling as soon as I did.

"You're working with your brother?!" She asked, infuriated, explaining that she had read his blog, and didn't think I should be helping, saying it was much too dangerous.

"Mom, I can handle it." I assured her. "I'm doing alright, and it's much more fun than just sitting around the flat."  
"How about looking for a real job?" She suggested. I sighed.

"I am looking, i promise. I just haven't found one that I really like yet."

"BUt you like taking down gang members and almost getting killed." She said. I didn't answer. What in the world would you say to that? Saying 'yes' made me sound insane, and 'no' would defeat my whole argument.

"It's…" I struggled to find a word. "...different." I concluded.

"Different" She repeated quietly. It was silent for a moment, before she spoke again. "And you're staying safe?" She asked. I replied with a quick 'of course' before it went silent again.

"The first I hear of you getting hurt because of this…"

"I won't." I interrupted.

"You are done." She continued.

"Mom, I'm an adult. I can take care of myself. It would be no different than me actually being with Scotland Yard." I argued.

"We'll talk about this later, with John." She finalized. I sighed in relief, knowing John could talk to her about it. "But, we will talk about this Sherlock character." I could hear the smile in her voice, and it caused my own smile to grow, my cheeks going red. "What's he like?" She asked, and I told her everything John had told me about him. "Why do you want to know?" I asked.

"Well you're living with him. And John tells me you know have become close. _Very _close." She teased.

"Mom, we're not talking about this now. When I come up to visit, I promise, it will be girl-talk all day, everyday, if that's what you want." She laughed.

"Alright. When are you coming next. It's been so long since I've seen you! And how is college going?" She asked. I told her I was still between art and psychology.

"What would you do with that?"

"Psychology degree?"

"Yeah." She confirmed.

"I don't know. I'll be a therapist or something. Doesn't sound bad to me." I shrugged.

"And art?" She asked.

"No clue." I answered honestly.

"Psychology is your best bet, then, I think." She suggested.

"Yeah, probably."

"You need a real job soon enough. Good luck. Talk soon." She said,. We said our goodbyes, and I put the phone back down.

"You might make a good therapist, actually. You're a great listener."I heard Sherlock say from behind me. I turned to see him and John in the doorway.

"When did you guys get home?" I asked.

"Just now." John answered. "Was that mom?" I nodded.

"Yeah. She found your blog." His eyes widened.

"Oh, good Lord."

"Harry helped, definitely. I don't think mom really knows how exactly to work a computer." I laughed. Our mother was very technologically impaired. "I'm surprised she knew how to call me." I joked. John laughed, heading to the kitchen, while Sherlock paced in front of the couch.

"You alright?" I asked. He didn't acknowledge me at first, but a few seconds later, he turned to look at me. He straightened up a little, standing to his full height, where earlier he had been slouched.

"Fine."

"What happened?" I asked, knowing he was lying.

"We caught the Golem." He announced.

"Oh?"

"Then we lost him." He said quietly.

"Oh." We stayed silent, then I spoke up. "Anything else on the painting? Figure out why it's a fake?" I wondered. He shook his head.

"Nothing yet. We're going back in the morning with Lestrade, if you want to come."

"Yeah, sure. Just wake me up this time." I joked. "I would have joined you guys if you had."

"Too dangerous. And you looked like you needed some sleep."

"Oh, wow, thanks.' I laughed.

"No, what I meant was, you seemed very tired in the cab, I thought you could use as much sleep as you could didn't look bad. Quite the opposite, actually." He admitted. I blushed. "And it really was dangerous, chasing an assassin. You could have gotten hurt, or killed. Don't know what I would have done." He added, softly. I looked at Sherlock, who was looking at the ground. John, luckily, hadn't heard anything. Instead, he was on the phone with someone, presumably Sara,or mom had finally called him. He seemed to be upset, talking quickly into the phone, while flailing his arms, his little face going red.

"Who's he talking to?" Sherlock asked.

"No idea." I answered with a yawn. I plopped myself down in Sherlock's chair, not thinking about it, when I was suddenly lifted into the air, and put down again, placed in someone's lap, their arms not letting go, and when I opened my eyes, I came face to face with Sherlock.

"Thought it would be rude to move you too much." He joked. I laughed and laid my head on his shoulder, shutting my eyes again.

I heard John sigh, and I looked at John, who was sitting in his chair, looking frustrated.

"What's wrong?" I asked for the second time that night. He looked at me.

"Well, sorry. I know you liked Sara , but.." He trailed off. I nodded.

"I'm sorry." I said. "Can I do anything?" I offered. He shook his head.

No, no, I'll be fine." He nodded, and sent me a tired smile.

"Take my-well, actually, your-bed tonight. I took a nap today, so I'm not that tired. I'll take the couch.

"You sure?" He asked. I nodded.

"Yeah, absolutely." I assured him.

"Thank you." He said, not fighting me like he usually did when I offered for him to take his bed back. Poor guy has been sleeping either on the couch, or in Mrs. Hudson's guestroom.

"You're still tired." Sherlock stated.

"What?"

"You're still tired. You lied to John. Why?"I shrugged.

"He just seemed like he needed a good night's sleep more than I did."

"So you decided to take the couch?" He asked. I nodded. "No, you're not. Take my bed." He said. I shook my head.

"Where are you going to sleep?"

"I might not. I might be too busy." I glanced at the kitchen table full of chemistry things. I nodded.

"Sure?" He nodded. "Okay. But if you get tired, just move me to the couch, or wake me up, or something." I said, getting up to get some pajamas from my room.

When I walked in, I looked to the bed, ready to apologize to John for coming in, and ready to explain myself, but John was already fast asleep.

I quickly and quietly grabbed some pajama pants, a loose fitting shirt, and a towel, planning on taking a shower and then heading to bed.

As soon as my head hit the pillow, I fell asleep, though I knew it wouldn't last long. I had a bad habit of waking up once or twice a night before falling into a deep sleep, and it was worse when I slept somewhere new. It wasn't too bad, though. I would wake up a couple of times, stay awake for a few minutes, and go right back to sleep. Nothing big.

But when I didn't wake up that night, I was really confused.

I checked the clock, once, twice, then three times to make sure it was really eight in the morning, before getting up and walking to the kitchen where Sherlock was still working.

"Morning." He mumbled, looking into the microscope.

"Good morning. Is John awake yet?" I asked, wanting to go and get some regular clothes if he was.

"I don't know."

"Here I am." John said, raising a hand. He was sitting in his chair, reading a newspaper. I chuckled.

"You didn't know?" I teased. He shrugged.

"I didn't hear him come in."

"I said 'Good morning, Sherlock'." John admitted. "I sat here and talked to you for a good five minutes."

"Oops." Was all Sherlock responded with. I could feel John's eye roll.

I didn't say anything else as I headed to my room and changed, then coming back down for breakfast.

Mrs. Hudson would volunteer to make breakfast sometimes, which I loved, so when I came down and she was in the kitchen frying some bacon, I was ecstatic, Not only did I get a good night's sleep for the first time in a long time, but I was getting a fantastic breakfast to follow.

I helped John clear off the table, though no the one Sherlock was working on, while Mrs. Hudson cooked.

"Elizabeth?" I heard her call. I finished sorting out the papers in my hand, then looked at her. "Would you mind helping me?" She asked. "You don't have to if you don't want to…" She started, but I waved a hand at her.

"Don't worry about it, I would love to help. John and I had just finished." I said, coming into the kitchen, ready for her to give me orders. I ended up making some biscuits while she told me what to do and made some sausage.

After breakfast, we met Lestrade at the gallery, joined by the lady we met yesterday, Sherlock absolutely positive she knew something.

"It's a fake. It has to be." Sherlock repeated, looking through his phone.

"That painting has been subjected to every test known to science."

"It's a very good fake, then." Sherlock said, becoming more and more frustrated as time went on. He turned to glare at her. "You know about this, don't know? This is you, isn't it?" He asked. She looked to Lestrade, obviously annoyed.

"My time is being wasted, Inspector. Would you mind showing yourself, and your...friends out?" She asked, attempting to kick us out, as soon as the pink phone rang for the first time in a few days, and Sherlock rushed to answer.

"It's a fake." He said into the phone, putting it on speaker. I could hear faint breathing over the phone, but there was no response. "It' s a fake, that's why Woodridge and Caims were killed." I ' looked to John and mouthed: '_Caims?!"_ He only shook his head and waved his hand, signaling he would tell me later. I nodded, turning my attention back to Sherlock. There was no other answer, again. Just silence. "Oh, come on, proving is just the detail. The painting is a fake. I've solved it. I figured it out." He shouted frantically. "It's a fake! That's the answer! That's why they were killed!" Again, no answer, just breathing. Sherlock took in a deep breath, and I stepped forward, anxiously, getting a bad feeling in the pit on my stomach. "Okay, I'll prove it." He said, calmly. "Give me time. Will you give me time?" He asked, and waited. I thought there would be no answer again, but what I heard frightened me more.

A boy's voice, a little, innocent boys voice, came over the phone.

"_Ten._" he said, and my heart fell to my stomach, the bad feeling intensifying. I couldn't breath.

"Oh my gosh." I whispered, trying to take deep breathes. Sherlock turned to the painting, and I searched it as well, not knowing what I was looking for, ,but trying to help in any way that I could.

"It's a kid." Lestrade said.

"What did he say?" John asked.

"Ten."

"_Nine…"_ He continued.

"It's a countdown. He's giving me time. The painting's a fake, but how can I prove it?" Sherlock asked. "How?"

"_Eight…_"

He turned to the woman. "This kid will die. tell me why this is a fake. Tell me!" He yelled. She was going to answer, but he stopped her.

"_Seven…"_

"No, shut up. Don't say anything. It only works if I figure it out." He explained, going back to the painting. John began pacing, possibly because of the tension in the room.

"_Six…"_

"Sherlock, come on." I pleaded quietly.

"Woodbridge knew, but how?" He asked himself.

"_Five…"_

"It's speeding up." Lestrade noticed. My heart began to race faster, my stomach churning, and my chest began to hurt from anxiety.

"Sherlock." I said again, urgently. He stared at it, before his eyes widened.

"Oh." He said.

"_Four…_"

"In the planetarium! John ,you heard it too, oh that is brilliant. Georgeous!" He shoved the pink phone into my hands, before turning to his own, typing away, pacing the floor.

"_Three…"_

"What's brilliant? What is?" John asked, confused. Sherlock laughed in delight, walking back over towards us.

"This is beautiful. I love this." He said.

"_Two…"_

"Sherlock!" I said, furiously.

He grabbed the phone from my hands.

"The Van Buren Supernova." He answered. It felt as if time had stopped only for a moment.

"_Please, is somebody there?"_ the little boy asked. All of the tension in the room suddenly vanished. I let out a sigh, almost dropping to the floor. "_Somebody help me!"_ the boy pleaded. Sherlock handed it to lestrade.

"Find out where he is and pick him up." He ordered. He pointed to the dot in the center of the painting, showing those of us who remained. "The Van Buren Supernova, so-called." He held up his phone, showing the woman the screen. "Exploding star. Only appeared in the sky in Eighteen fifty-eight." He threw her a triumphant look, before exiting. John and I, though, walked towards the painting, getting a closer look at it.

"So how could it have been painted in the sixteen forties?" he grinned, and I did too, a little. It was insanely clever, I'll give him that, whoever thought this up.

Suddenly, my back pocket vibrated, and I pulled out my phone finding a text from Mycroft (who somehow retrieved my number).

"Oh." I said, opening it, reluctantly. John looked at it as well.

**FROM: Mycroft**

**My patience is wearing thin.**

**Mycroft Holmes**

Sherlock and Lestrade went back to New Scotland Yard along with Miss Wenceslas, but I went with John to Battersea to look into West's death more. We were met by a Tube Guard, who gave us bright orange vests, and was showing us where Wet's body was found.

"So this was where West was found?" I asked as we walked along the tracks.

"Yeah. You two gonna be long?" He asked.

"Might be." John answered.

"You with the police then?"  
"Sort of." I answered, honestly.

"I hate 'em." We both looked to the Tube Guard.

"The police?" I asked.

"No. Jumpers." I put a hand on John's arm.

"Not those kinds of jumpers. Calm down." I joked. He was the only one who heard, though, and tried not to laugh.

"Shut up." He whispered.

"eople who chuck themselves in front of trains. Selfish." He clarified. John, jokingly, sighed in relief.

"Well, that's one way of looking at it." John mumbled, squatting t look at the tracks.

"I mean, it's alright for them. It's over in a split second, strawberry jam all over the lines. What about the driers, hmm? They have to live with it, don't they?"

"He makes a point." I mumbled to John, who hummed in response. I ran a finger over the line, picking it up and looking at it.

"Yeah, speaking of strawberry jam-there's no blood on the line. Has it been cleaned off?" I asked, curious as I stood.

"There wasn't much blood."

"You said his head was smashed in." John added.

"Well, it was, but there wasn't much blood." He repeated. "Well, I'll leave you to it. Just shout when you're off." The guard walked away, leaving John and I alone.

"Right so, Andrew West got on the train somewhere-"

"Or did he?" I interrupted. "There was no ticket on the body, then how did he end up here?" I asked, remembering what Mycroft had said during his little visit.

The points changed on the tracks, changing the route.

"Points." I heard Sherlock say.

"Yes!" John exclaimed, and I spun around. Sherlock was standing behind us.

"Knew you would get there eventually."

"So…" I said, taking a really quick guess. "The train wasn't what killed West? I mean, it would make sense. There no little to no blood at the scene, though his head was bashed in…" I trailed off. Sherlock nodded.

" West wasn't killed here." He said. "That's why there wasn't any blood." he confirmed.

"Wait, how long have you been following us?"

"Since the start. You don't think I would give up on a case like this just to spite my brother, do you?" He asked, walking away. "Come on. Got a bit of burglary to do.

"The missile defence plans haven't left the country." Sherlock said as we walked down a street I wasn't familiar with. "Otherwise Mycroft's people would have heard about it. Despite what people think, we do still have Secret Service."

"Yeah, I know. I've met them." John said.

"Which means whoever has that memory stick can't sell it or doesn't know what to do with it." Sherlock informed us. "my money's on the latter. We're here." He said as we approached a set of stairs.

"Where?" John asked, but he didn't answer. We followed him to the door, and Sherlock rummaged through his pocket.

"What if there's someone in?" I asked.

"There isn't." He assured me.

"Jesus." I heard John say as Sherlock picked the lock, and walked in.

We walked up a few stairs and into a living room.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Oh, sorry, didn't I say?" Joe Harrison's flat." He said, though the name didn't ring a bell with me.

"Joe..?" I asked.

"The brother of West's fiancee. He stole the memory stick; killed his prospective brother-in-law." He went to his knees by the window, taking out his magnifier and examining the window sill. John peeked over his shoulder, while I remained in the middle of the room, waiting for something to happen.

I got my wish, though it wasn't really exactly what I wanted to happen, when I thought I heard someone outside.

"Then why'd he do it?" John asked. I heard the door unlocking, and I peeked around the door to look, curious.

"Let's ask him." Sherlock said.

"Elizabeth." I heard one of them whisper, and a gun slid across the floor, hitting my foot.

"What the heck do you want to to do with this?" I asked, picking it up. I had never used a gun in my life, and hoped I never had to. John shrugged.

"Defend yourself." He guessed.

"Why can't you?"

"Because you're right there."

"I'm your sister. You're little sister, as you keep reminding us. You're supposed to be protecting me, not cowering in the corner like a baby."

"Good Lord, you two, really? Your mother must have gone insane."Sherlock said.

"She didn't need us to be insane. She was like that long before we came along." I said.

"It was Harry's fault." John pinned the blame on her. I heard the door open, and I hid behind the wall.

"Elizabeth, do something."

"I am. I'm hiding." I said, earning a glare from both of the boys. I turned, trying to see where they were, but they saw me, grabbing their bike, ready to hit me with it. I turned completely, holding the gun out.

"Don't." I squeaked, absolutely terrified. He lowered the bike, and I lowered the gun, not wanting to hold it any longer.

**So this is a crappy place to leave it, but this is where it's stopping.**

**So, this chapter was much longer (10 pages in Google Docs, Whoo!)**

**I have a question for you guys, though.**

**How would you describe Elizabeth? As in physical appearance.**

**I know I haven't really mentioned her appearance, and if I have, it was very brief. I kind of decided to just leave hat up to you guys, to imagine her however you wanted to, but I'm just really curious about how you guys imagine her. And in the next chapter, I'll share my opinion.**

**I don't really think I have anything else, so reviews!**

**I am really enjoying your addition of Elizabeth and how close she is with Sherlock. That and how close she is with her siblings gives a better view on John which I appreciate. With your mention of her going to college does have me wonder what she went to school for and if she will get a job in that field anytime soon. That and just what Moriarty will think of her. Keep up the great work!**

**~xxyangxx2006**

**Hello! I don't believe we've met before! (and if you have reviewed before, I am so, so, so, so, so sorry for not remembering, it's early in the morning for me, my brain is not exactly remembering a whole lot. Please, accept a whole plate of cookies as an apology, and if you **_**are**_ **new, take them anyway!) Thank you for reviewing, and I am so happy you are enjoying it! I try to show how close John and Elizabeth, and even the two of them and Harry, are in some way in each chapter, whether it be a past memory mentioned, or just a small thought, because, you know that they **_**have**_ **to have some great childhood memories! And I think sometimes, and I caught myself doing this in the beginning, sometimes they either almost completely forget John (not all the time, but I've read one or two that do so) or they make little to no mentions to the character's being related, and I try to keep adding little things here and there, but what is really interesting is that you mentioned it giving a better look on John, which I honestly never thought about before you mentioned it, and I'm glad it does and I'm glad you pointed that out to me. Thank you! (Sorry, I'm rambling…)**

**I also added some more about her going to college here too, and I am stuck on art and psychology. I don't really know exactly why I chose those, but i did and I am stuck between them because I love them both so much for this story, I think they would both really fit, if that made any sense at all. And I caN. NOT. WAIT! to write Moriarty! I love him so much, and Andrew Scott did such a good job portraying him. It was different than most of the portrayals I had seen, which instantly hooked me. He's not the typical bad guy, he's kind of...silly...in a scary, evil mastermind kind of way (i don't know if that made sense either…). The way I see it, if you fall in love with the villain, that's how you know it's good, whether it be a book, or a movie, or a TV show, that's how you know it's top notch...to me anyway.**

**Ah I am so sorry this is so long, but I can be long winded...depends on my mood, aaaaand here I go again.**

**Thank you again for reviewing, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well! nice to hear from you!**

**Awesome chapter, you should totally make a chapter where they stay home and have a lotr movie marathon.**

**~wolviegurl**

**I like your thinking! Definitely going to put that in! Can you imagine it? Sherlock, secretly getting really, really into it, but not showing it, and then, by the end, he's talking to the television, and screaming at it? That would be hilarious, I think. It would make a great chapter! Thanks for the idea, I love it!**

**I absolutely ADORE this story! Sherlock and Elizabeth are just too cute together! Update soon please!**

**~Megla**

**Another new reviewer! (Again, if you're not new, then have a plate of cookies, and if you are, take them anyway!) Thank you so much for your review. I'm glad you enjoy it! And I promise, there are many more Elizabeth and Sherlock moments to come, especially after the next chapter!**

**Hello!**

**I love Elizabeth being an art lover, and I always kept thinking of the LoTR references in this part of the episode. I was missing reading this, and I am so glad you updated. I hope your finals went well. I hope your summer goes well - I'm jealous, really, since in Australia it's coming into winter now (although our winter isn't that bad).**

**On the point of National Scoliosis Month, we don't have a month dedicated to it in Australia, but I have heard of it, and the support groups in Australia are rather influential in fundraising for the condition. I agree that awareness is good. I know that suffering something like that can be difficult, and sometimes you feel so different, and you can get nervous about people staring at you. I know that feeling. When times get tough, remember this really important thing:**

**You are beautiful, not matter what.**

**You have a brilliant personality, and I can tell from your writing. You should never let your condition change who you are, or how you feel about yourself. Normality is so boring, and if you ever feel uncomfortable about it, keep in mind that many people care for you no matter how you appear.**

**Sorry about that, but I felt like I needed to say it. I am going to wear green for you and all others diagnosed with it, even though it isn't a day in Australia, and help spread awareness. :)**

**Good luck with your internet, too. Sorry that this was so long...**

**By my hand and seal,**

**\- Elyshia Aislinn -**

**Your review was exactly what I needed to hear right now. Thank you so much! You brought tears to my eyes, and I can't thank you enough. And thank you for wearing green. It means so much not only to me, but I know to so many others as well!**

**And my finals went great, surprisingly! I did a lot better than I thought I would! And my summer has been fantastic! Right now, i'm just doing a whole lotta nothin', but with Fourth of July coming up, things may get hectic…**

**On the point of Elizabeth being an art lover, when I imagined Sherlock in a relationship, I imagined him with someone who had some kind of appreciation for art and culture, I don't know why, but I've always thought that, so I decided to add that in. And I had tones of LoTR references just rolling during the episode, but I didn't add them all here, mainly because not everyone has seen the movies, so I refrained from using too many.**

**Thank you so much, again, for your review!**

_**May I always live to serve you and your crown.**_

**~Eruaphadriel**


	17. Chapter 17

**Hello again! How are ya?**

**I don't have anything else to say except, thanks for reading, and this will have one of my favorite characters included (most of you already know about it :) ), and one of the hardest chapters I have ever written, because I didn't know how to write Elizabeth in this, so I'm just winging it, like I do with school essays!**

**Anyway, here you go.**

Shortly afterwards, he was sitting on the couch, Sherlock, John, and I all standing in front of him as he told us what happened, looking very distressed as he did so.

"It wasn't meant to…" He trailed off, and Sherlock looked away, annoyed. "What's Lucy gonna say?" He said, rubbing his face with his hands sinking back into the sofa.

"Why did you kill him?" John asked.

"It was an accident." Sherlock snorted. "I swear it was." Joe assured us.

"And stealing the plans for the missile defence programme wasn't as accident, was it?" Sherlock asked him.

"I started dealing drugs." He said simply.

"Wonderful." I mumbled, sarcastically.  
"I mean, the bike thing's a great cover, right? I dunno-I dunno how it started; I just got out of my depth. I owed people thousands-serious people. Then at Westie's engagement do, he starts talking about his job. I mean, he's usually so careful; but that night after a few pints, he really opened up. He told me about these missile plans-beyond top secret. He showed me the memory stick; he waved it in front of me. You hear about these things getting lost, ending up on rubbish tips and what-not. And there it was, and I thought...well I thought it would be worth a fortune. It was pretty easy to get the thing off him, he was so plastered. Next time I saw him, I could tell by the look on his face that he knew."

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket, but I ignored it, until Sherlock nudged my shoulder.

"Answer it if you like. I'll catch you up." He whispered, as John asked what happened. I excused myself from the room, and stepped outside.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Hi, Elizabeth?" A bright voice asked.

"Yes, that's me. Who's this?"

"It's Molly. Molly Hooper?" She answered. "Sherlock gave me your number in case I needed anything and he didn't answer. I'm sorry-" She began to apologize, but I cut her off.

"No worries, you're fine." I smiled. I considered Molly a friend. We didn't talk much, only when we were at Bart's, and sometimes she joined Lestrade and I for lunch, but I liked talking to Molly.

"I didn't know if maybe you wanted to hang out tonight? We could catch a film and get a bite to eat. Kind of like a girl's night?"  
'Absolutely. When?" I asked, excitedly.

We set up a time to meet, and talked for a little while about nothing really in particular, until Sherlock and John walked out of the building, Sherlock flashing the memory stick quickly, smiling, before hailing a cab.

I hung up the phone with Molly, telling her I would text her when I was on my way, and got into the cab.

"Who was that?" John asked.

"Molly. She wanted to know if I was free. We're going to catch a movie and get something to eat." I explained. John smiled.

"Seems like fun. Glad you're making friends." He patted my knee. I frowned.

"I've made a lot of friends."

"Name them."

"Sherlock, Lestrade, Molly, Mrs. Hudson…" I trailed off, not thinking of anyone else, and I looked down at my feet.

"I can count them on one hand." John laughed. I laughed along with him.

"I don't like having too many friends." I explained. John nodded.

"Oh, okay. I think that's just an excuse for only having four friends in London. Or just four friends."

I laughed. "I do not have only four friends. I have five. David, remember?" I asked. John laughed.

"I remember David. You two should not be allowed to talk." He said.

"Who's David?" Sherlock asked.

"One of my old friends from high school."

"You two were insane."

"We were great." I corrected, remembering all of the times David and I did something stupid, which was a lot!

We arrived back to the flat, and I instantly ran up to my room to get ready. I wasn't going to dress up or anything, but I was definitely going to change out of these clothes, seeing as I've been wearing them all day, and they probably didn't smell the best.

I was running late, so instead of walking to Molly's, like I planned, I got some extra money for a cab.

"Leaving already?" John asked as I walked out of the door. I stopped and turned to him.

"Yup. We planned to meet at her flat in half an hour. I'm running behind." I explained.

"Ah, well you better go, then. Have fun!" He called, as I practically run down the stairs. There weren't many cars on Baker Street, but luckily there was a cab that I caught quickly, jumping in and giving the cabbie Molly's address before I could even shut the door.

We rode for a good fifteen minutes before coming close to the turn onto Molly's road, but instead of turning, the cabbie went on.

"Excuse me." I tapped his shoulder. "I think you missed the turn." I said, but he didn't acknowledge me. "Can you hear me?" I asked. "My stop is back there, you missed the turn." I said a little louder.

The cabbie finally turned, and I caught a glimpse of their face. It was the guy Molly was dating from IT, and the guy I saw in Speedy's a week or so ago with John for lunch.

"Hello, darlin'." He smiled.

* * *

"No, no, no!" Sherlock yelled. "Of course he's not the boy's father! Look at the turn-ups on his jeans!"

"Knew it was dangerous." John said, typing away on his blog.

"Hmm?"

"Getting you into crap telly." He replied.

"Not a patch on Connie Prince." Sherlock said.

"Have you given Mycroft the memory stick yet?" John asked.

"Yep. He was over the moon. Threatened me with a knighthood-again." Sherlock answered. John was silent for a moment, before speaking up.

"You know, I'm still waiting." He said.

"For?"

"You to admit that a little knowledge of the Solar System and you would have cleared up the fake painting a lot quicker."

"Didn't do you any good, did it?" Sherlock argued.

"No, but then again, I'm not the world's only consulting detective."

"True." Sherlock said with a smile. John closed the lid of his laptop, and stood up, grabbing his coat.

"I won't be in for tea. I'm going to Sara's to talk and work some things out."

"Elizabeth will be glad." Sherlock commented.

"Yeah. There's still some of that risotto left in the fridge."

"Mmm."

"Uh, milk. We need milk." John stopped at the door.

"I'll get some." Sherlock told him. John looked at him in disbelief.

"Really?"

"Really."

"And some beans, then?" he asked.

"Mmm." Sherlock hummed in response. John hesitated, and then turned and left, still shocked.

As soon as he was gone, Sherlock grabbed his laptop from where it was tucked beside him, and opened it, staring at the message box on his Science of Deduction website.

**Found.** he typed. **Bruce Partington plans. Please collect.**

He knew it was part of the puzzle, seeing as there were five pips, and they had only had four cases to solve. He thought for a moment, before continuing.

**The Pool. Midnight.**

Then he sent the message, and closed the lid, just as the phone rang.

"Hello?" He answered.

"Hello, Sherlock. Has Elizabeth already left?" Molly asked.

"Yes. Why?"

"Well, we were supposed to meet an hour ago, but she hasn't shown up. I tried her phone, just to make sure she was alright, but she didn't answer." Molly explained.

"I'll call John. Maybe he knows something."

"Alright. Thanks." Molly said, before Sherlock hung up and dialed John's number.

"What?" John answered.

"Well, hello, as they used to say. Have you heard from Elizabeth?"

"She's with Molly, yeah?" John answered.

"Molly just called, said she never arrived.

"Huh. That's...that's not like her at all. Has she tried calling her?"

"Didn't pick up."

"I'll try her phone myself. I'll text you in a bit."

Sherlock hung up the phone, and sighed, sending a quick text to Elizabeth, asking where she was, and to call him, hoping she was okay.

* * *

I woke up, not knowing where I was, but I could smell chlorine. I tried to stand, but my legs were tied together and so were my hands. I wiggled around a bit, only to knock over a broom and metal pail.

"Aww, how adorable." A man said. He had an Irish accent, which, in some cases, would be a bit soothing, I guess, but right now, it filled with me fear as I spun around as much as I could.

"Jim." I whispered. He had changed into a suit, very expensive looking, and was holding photographs.

"You remembered my name." He smiled. "How sweet." He held the pictures up to his face again. "You were too cute. Oh, look at this one. It's my favorite." He held the picture out to me so I could look.

"How did you get these?" I breathed. The picture was of me, around the age of five, dressed up for the Christmas play for church. I was one of the angels.

"Oh, your mother is very fond of little Elizabeth on facebook. Posts pictures of you and your brother and sister all the time." he took the picture back and looked through some more. "All I had to do, was look up your name, and then go through your friends list is all."

"Why?" I asked. He didn't answer. I waited for a while, calming down a bit, before asking another one. "Okay." I said calmly. "Where am I?"

"Can't you tell?" He asked.

"Pool?" I guessed. He smiled.

"Very good." He said, as if talking to a dog. "I can tell you have more. Questions I mean." He turned over the bucket, and sat down. "Ask away." he smiled, and it looked somewhat sinister.

"Why am I here."  
"This is where we're meeting. You, me, John, and of course Sherlock."

"Okay. Will you let me go?" I asked. He thought for a moment.

"I don't know. Depends." He stood, and walked towards a blue door. "I'll see you very soon." He grinned, and dropped the pictures on the ground, before walking out.

I made my way towards the wall and leaned against it, waiting.

A while later, I heard a door open and shut, and then another, before I heard footsteps, and then two voices. I couldn't tell who they were, only that they were both male, one voice considerably lower than the other, the higher of the two monotone, almost like a robot.

I crawled to the door, trying to hear, hoping it was Sherlock and John, when another door opened.

"I gave you my number. I thought you might call." I heard Jim say. I heard his footsteps come towards the door, and it opened, revealing Jim.

"Oh come on, now, don't be shy." He pulled me up, taking the binds off of my feet and wrists. I remained still though, knowing that trying to get away would not be my best bet, and if he wanted to keep me prisoner, he wouldn't be bringing me out.

He grabbed my arm, and made me walk with him, out into the pool. Sherlock was standing there, turned to look at us, while John, covered by a large green coat I was almost positive he didn't own, stayed where he was.

"Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?"

Sherlock pulled the gun out, pointing it at Jim. "Both." He answered.

"Jim Moriarty. Hi." he introduced."Jim?" He asked. "Jim from the hospital? Oh, did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then I suppose, that was rather the point." He walked us to the other side of the pool, slowly. "Elizabeth here remembered me, though." he smiled at me, but I kept looking forward. "She is pretty, isn't she, Sherlock. I can see why you like her so much. Very calm, too. Most people wouldn't be." He moved a hair from my face, and I tried to back away. He turned his attention back to Sherlock. "Don't be silly, someone else is holding the rifle. I don't like getting my hands that dirty." He paused, but no one said anything. "I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a glimpse of what I've got going on out there in the big bad world. I'm a specialist, you see. Like you."

"Dear Jim…" Sherlock mumbled. "...please will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover's nasty sister? Dear Jim please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America?"

"Just so." Moriarty said, walking us closer.

"Consulting criminal. Briliant."

"Isn't it? No one ever gets to me. And no one ever will."

"I did." Sherlock said cocking his gun.

"You've come the closest. Now you're in my way."

"Thank you."

"Didn't mean it as a compliment."

"Yes you did."

"Yeah, okay, I did." Moriarty shrugged. "But the flirting's over Sherlock. Daddy's had enough now." He sung. "I've shown you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems, even thirty million quid, just to get you to come out and play. So take this as a friendly warning...my dear. Back off. Although, I have loved this, this little game of ours, playing Jim from IT. Playing gay. Did you like the touch with the underwear?" He asked.

"People have died." Sherlock reminded.

"That's what people DO!" He shouted. I winced, terrified. He had let go of my arm, but I didn't move-I couldn't move. I felt frozen in place, and I saw a little red dot inching my way. I didn't want to risk moving, even if I could.

"I will stop you." Sherlock promised.

"No you won't."

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked, looking from John, then to me. I nodded quickly and Moriarty walked up to John.

"You can talk, Johnny boy. Go ahead. You two Elizabeth."

"Take it." Sherlock said, offering what looked like the memory stick.

"Mm? Oh…" Moriarty hummed. "...that? The missile plans." he kissed the memory stick, pausing for a moment. "Boring." he sung. "I could have gotten them anywhere." He threw the stick into the pool.

As soon as he did so, John ran up behind him, grabbing Moriarty.

"Run!" he demanded. Moriarty laughed.

"Good! Very good."

"If your sniper pulls that trigger, Mr. Moriarty, then we both go up."

"Isn't he sweet? I can see why you like having him then, people do get so sentimental about their pets. They're so touchingly loyal. But oops!" he yelled. "You've rather shown your hand there, Dr. Watson." he said. A red dot appeared on Sherlock's forehead.

"Gotcha." Moriarty sung. John backed away from him, his hands in the air as Moriarty smoothed out his suit.

"Westwood." he said, pointing to it. "Do you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock? To you?"

"Oh, let me guess, I get killed." Sherlock said, bored.

"Kill you? No, don't be obvious. I mean, I'm going to kill you, anyway, someday. I don't want to rush it, though. I'm saving it up for something special. No, no, no, no, no. If you don't stop prying...I will burn you. I will burn the heart out of you."

"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one." Sherlock mumbled.

"But we both know that's not quite true." He paused, shaking his head, and looking down at his feet, before speaking up again. "Well, I'd better be off." He said, and I panicked. I didn't know if he was going to take me with him again, or if he was going to let me go. I hoped for the latter, obviously. "Well, so nice to have had a proper chat." he said, but he didn't walk away.

"What if I was to shoot you know?" Sherlock asked. "Right now?"

"Then you can cherish the look of surprise on my face. Because I would be surprised, Sherlock, really I would. And just a teensy bit...disappointed. And of course you wouldn't be able to cherish it for long. Ciao, Sherlock Holmes." He said, exiting the pool.

"Catch you...later." Sherlock turned to watch him go, keeping the gun pointed on him.

"No you won't." I heard Moriarty say, and then the door slammed shut. Everything was still for a moment, then Sherlock rushed into action, kneeling in front of John."All right? Are you alright?" Sherlock asked him.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Sherlock...Sherlock." John said, as Sherlock took the coat, and a vest covered in wires and lights off of him, and throwing it on the ground, the coat sliding away.

"Elizabeth." Sherlock walked towards me. I walked towards him and John as well, meeting him in the middle. "What about you? Are you alright?" He asked. I nodded. "He didn't hurt you, did he?" Sherlock asked, taking my arms and pulling up my sleeves to look at them.  
"I'm fine." I said, as he traced the lines where the binds had been around my wrists. He looked up at me, and pulled my sleeves back down, placing a quick kiss to my forehead.

I looked back to John to find him on the ground against the wall, gasping as Sherlock began to pace the length of the pool.

"Are you okay?" I asked Sherlock.

"Me?" He asked. I nodded. "Yeah, fine. I'm fine. Fine." he repeated quickly, turning to John. "that, er...thing that you...that you did, that, um...that you offered to do..that was, um...good." He complimented. I think that was as close of a 'thank you' as Sherlock was going to get.

"I'm glad no one saw that." John commented.

"Mm?" Sherlock hummed.

"You ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk." He explained. I chuckled a little, quietly.

"People do little else."

John laughed a little as well, before going to stand up, I looked up, only for a second, before looking down at John, a red light on his chest like before. He looked down at it, confused, and I looked around the pool.

"Sorry, boys. I'm sooo changeable." Moriarty said from behind us. I spun around quickly. "It is a weakness with me, but to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness." I looked back to Sherlock, who was now covered in red dots, and I looked down at myself, seeing the same thing.

"You can't be allowed to continue, Sherlock. You just can't. I would try to convince you, but, everything I have to say has already crossed your mind."

"Probably my answer has crossed yours." Sherlock said, pointing the gun to the bomb on the ground.

**And end credits!  
So I had a bit of fun with this, though I had no idea how I was going to incorporate Elizabeth into these scenes! I just kind of winged it, and took ideas and things from other works I have read, and tried to work her in, but working her in was a lot harder that it usually is! And writing Moriarty without the script, and showing her just how involved he is….gah. This was probably a wreck.**

**Anyway, on to reviews!**

**Hello!**

**I'm really looking forward to Moriarty. SO CLOSE NOW! .**

**While reading this, I'm picturing Elizabeth as a dark blond with sea green eyes, and rather short too...but that may just be me. I think she would be an excellent psychologist - or a criminologist!**

**Looking forward to your next update. Hope you enjoy your free time and just relax. :)**

**May your sword be sharp, and your tongue sharper.**

**\- Elyshia Aislinn -**

**Hi! **

**I was really looking forward to Moriarty as well. I know I've said it before, but I'll say it again;I just love him!**

**Your idea of Elizabeth is actually kind of cool because, in the beginning, that's how I imagined her, too, and I even had a reference picture (No clue where it is, now) that i was going to use, but I didn't. I just thought that was really cool!**

**I didn't think about criminology! That would be really neat, and It would fit well, I think!**

**Thanks for reviewing, and I hope I did Moriarty justice! (He is a bit difficult to write without the script and getting that perfect balance of polite and sinister that he has, without making him too OOC)**

**more please**

**~wolviegurl **

**Here you are, darling! Hope you enjoyed! And you can expect the LoTR movie marathon in the next few chapters! I'm looking forward to writing it! Thank you again for the idea (you will get credit for it at the beginning of the chapter, of course), and thank you for reviewing!**

**(Chapter 15)**

**narutonarutolove:theres this guy who was nicknamed "Chibi" he has scoliosis, and it so advanced he cant even lift one of his arms after a certain height. But he didnt let that stop him, he liked to dance, so he practically invented a new style of dance to fit his abilities. He's a great dancer, my favorite is "Remote Kontrol, Crave You" with iGlide and NonStop. Chibi is the one in the middle. Their fricking amazing, especially when you consider Chibi's scoliosis.**

**There are a lot of problems, but they dont have to BE problems. Like not having an arm. or being blind. It's not a condition. It's not even a disantvantage. It makes people like that even more amazing because they can do things that others cant with ALL their limbs and sight.**

**Get it? Like Bethany Hamilton. and Chibi. D**

**Hello! Wonderful to hear from you again! I hope all is well!**

**Thank you so much for sharing this with me! He is such an inspiration, and so is Bethany Hamilton. I admire both of them so much for what they do, despite the things that would so easily set them back, and be an excuse for them to quite. The kept going, they persevered, and you know it had to be hard for them, but they were determined, and I think just that alone is amazing, but, with them, considering the circumstances, it's beyond amazing!**

**Thank you so much for sharing this with me, and I will be sure to share his story with others as well for inspiration. Thank you so much.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Well, we finished, The Great Game.**

'**What?! Finally?' Yes, finally!**

**So onto some more cases, but not Scandal in Belgravia-not yet. I promised some other cases that weren't really mentioned, and since the last case was just so intense, this chapter is going to be a bit of a filler, allowing a little break between cases.**

**The LotR marathon idea was given to me by the always lovely wolviegurl !**

**Beginning of Scandal, but not quite there yet! Very close, though.**

**Also, something really neat that I found interesting, if you don't mind me sharing.**

**So, I got bored, and began looking up names, starting with mine, then my sister's, and I thought 'Why not try some of my characters?', so I did, and when I came to Elizabeth, I was actually kind of surprised, to find that they were a real, famous, person, and this is what google said:**

'**Elizabeth "Betsy" Watson, was Houston's first female Police chief after climbing through the ranks. She served for two years before becoming the Chief for Austin's Police department before moving on to be a law enforcement consultant.'**

Sherlock had the gun pointed to the bomb on the ground, meanwhile snippers pointed at each of us, except for Moriarty who was watching in amusement.

I was terrified, knowing that there was a slim, if any, chance that we would make it out of here alive.

I honestly thought I was imagining things when I heard music playing. I thought it was because this situation was so stressful, I was hearing things, but after looking at John and Sherlock, it seemed like they heard it too.

"Do you mind if I get that?" Moriarty asked. I looked at him, and he seemed annoyed. Was that his phone?

"No, no, please. You have the rest of your life." Sherlock said. Moriarty pulled a phone out of his pocket, and pressed 'answer'.

"...Yes, of course it is. What do you want?" He asked, mouthing a 'Sorry' to Sherlock, you mouthed something back, but I didn't catch it. It was silent while Moriarty listened.

"Say that again!" He screamed, making me jump. "Say that again and know that if you are lying to me, I will find you, and I will skin you." He said, drawing out the 's' on skin, as if he were mimicking a snake.

He pulled the phone down from his ear, and hung up.

"Sorry." He said. "Wrong day to die."

"Did you get a better offer?" Sherlock asked, casually.

"You'll be hearing from me, Sherlock." Moriarty said, turning to walk out of the pool the way he came.

"So, if you have what you say you have, I'll make you rich. If not, I'll make you into shoes." He promised into the phone. He snapped his fingers, and the red dots on John, Sherlock, and myself disappeared, before walking out of the door.

"What just happened?" John asked.

"Someone changed his mind. The question is: who?" Sherlock answered.

* * *

A few days later, we were back in Baker Street. John was typing away on his laptop, probably his blog, while I sent a text to Molly, apologizing to her about the other night, and asking if she had plans tonight.

"What are you typing?" Sherlock asked.

"Blog."

Called it.

"About?"

"Us." John answered simply.

"You mean me." Sherlock corrected.

"Why?"

"Well, you're typing a lot." Sherlock said as the doorbell rang.

"Right then." Sherlock said. "What have we got?"

* * *

Luckily, the case didn't even require us to leave the flat, so I was free that night.

Molly, luckily, wasn't busy, and neither was Sarah, so we all made plans, that same as last time-dinner and a movie, either at Molly's or Sarah's, or at the cinema.

"Where are you going?" John asked, as I grabbed my bag.

"Molly, Sarah, and I are going out." I smiled. I could tell John was a bit uneasy about it, considering last time, and Sherlock was too. I sighed.

"Sarah's coming to pick me up." I rolled my eyes. John nodded, and Sherlock only hummed.

I heard her honk from outside, and I said my goodbyes, before running out to meet her.

After we picked up Molly, we arrived at a small, but casual, restaurant. We were seated quickly, and ordered our drinks.

"So, what are we doing as far as movies?" Sarah asked. I shrugged, saying anything was fine with me.

"Horror movie marathon?" She asked, I nodded, vigorously. I was always a big fan of scary movies. I looked to Molly, who I thought would attempt to oppose the idea, but instead, she seemed thrilled about it.

"You like horror movies?" I asked her. She nodded. "Wow. NO offence, or anything, but you just didn't seem like you would be into them." I said, taking a sip. She shrugged a shoulder, and smiled.

"Yeah." Sarah agreed. "I thought you would be more of a rom-com person."

"Oh, I love rom-coms." Molly explained. "But I love horror films, too."

We gathered up a list of movies we could rent, before the conversation turned over to relationships.

Molly told us about a guy she had been seeing, recently.

"He sounds nice. I'd like to meet him." I smiled.

"What about you and Sherlock?" Sarah asked, teasingly. I felt my cheeks beginning to burn. "Come on, John told me, remember, and I know you think he's a good kisser." She reminded.

"What?" Molly asked, excitedly. Sarah, nodded.

"Yup." She explained, telling Molly the whole story.

"So, are you two officially dating, yet, or…" Sarah prompted.

"I think so. I mean, we talked about it, but I'm still a little confused." Sarah nodded.

"What about you and John?" I asked. "The other night I heard you broke up, and now you guys are back on. What happened?" I asked.

"Just a complete misunderstanding. It was all my fault." She said, sadly.

"I'm sure that's not true." I said, trying to lift her spirits a little. "My brother, as nice as he is, can overreact...a lot." I laughed.

We finished dinner quickly, and headed over to Molly's flat after renting the movies.

It was a small flat, cutely decorated in bright colors and adorable little paper weights and photographs over her with family and friends.

We gathered some blankets and snacks, even though we just ate, and all decided to sit on the floor, while Molly put her cat in her bedroom (a cat which I sat and rubbed for a good five minutes while they got food).

By the time we got to the third movie, Sarah was already asleep, and Molly and I were almost asleep as well, so Molly brought out some pillows, and I sent a text, saying I wouldn't be home until morning.

**FROM: Johnny**

**Staying at Molly's?**

He asked.

**TO: Johnny**

**Yeah. Sarah's already fallen asleep, and I'm about gone myself.**

I replied.

**FROM: Johnny**

**Alrighty then. 'Night. Sherlock says goodnight as well.**

I sent them my goodnights, and fell asleep.

The next morning, Sarah took me home after lunch, and when I walked into 221B Baker Street, there was a client-a man- sitting in a dinning chair, facing the fireplace, while Sherlock and John sat in their chairs.

I stopped in the doorway, and they all turned to look at me.

"Oh, hi, sorry, I'll just-" I was about to turn and walk back downstairs and wait for them to finish, but Sherlock stopped me.

"No, no, come on in. You're fine." He said. I walked in and sat on the couch, grabbing a magazine.

"Go on." I heard Sherlock say, talking to the client.

"My wife seems to be spending a lot of time at the office." He explained.

"Boring." Sherlock blurted. I glanced at him from over the magazine, and so did John.

A few day's later, and woman came, saying she thought her husband was having an affair.

"Yes." Sherlock solved.

Later, a man, who was a bit...creepy looking, was sitting in the living room, holding an urn.

"She's not my real aunt." He said. I was sitting next to Sherlock in a dining chair, and John was sitting in his. We looked at each other, wide eyed.

"Um, what?" I whispered.

"She's been replaced-I _know_ human ash."

"Wha-no, why-?"  
"Leave." Sherlock said, pointing to the door.

* * *

A man was sitting in the chair, with two other men beside him.

"We are prepared to pay any sum of money you care to mention for the recovery of these files." He offered. I raised my eyebrows at the offer, when Sherlock turned it down.

"Boring."

* * *

I moved the chess piece, looking to Sherlock.  
"Can I move there?" I asked. He nodded, before taking one of his pieces, and knocking mine off of the board.

"You certainly can." He said with a smile. I sighed, leaning back in the chair.

"I don't get this game." I said moving a piece.

"Clearly." He knocked that one off of the board as well.

"Hey!" I said. He shrugged.

"Be careful." He warned.

"Can we just say you win, and get on with our lives?" I asked.

"Of course."

"You win. Now clean this up." I said. He laughed a little.

"Quitter." He mocked.

"I'm not a quitter. I just don't like chess." I explained. Sherlock nodded slowly.

"Oh, okay. I see." He said sarcastically. "You still quit, though, which makes you a quitter."

I sighed, not being able to argue, before grabbing a newspaper, flipping through it, aimlessly, though.

"Are you still looking for a job?" Sherlock asked. I shrugged.

"I dunno. I'm still trying to get through college." I said. He nodded.

"How is it?" he asked.

"College?" He nodded. "It's...school. Why?" I asked.

"Just making conversation." He shrugged.

Ever since the pool incident with Moriarty, Sherlock had become a bit more distant that he usually was. Every now and again he would go back to the regular old Sherlock, but then, he would become cold and distant again. I noticed him doing it more often over the past few days. I never asked him about it-thinking that whatever it is, he wanted to work out on his own, but it was starting to worry me a little.

"What's wrong?" I asked. He looked at me.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"You just seem a bit distant. Which is fine, and if you don't want to talk, I completely understand, but, I was just wondering if there is anything I can do to help, or if I've done something-"

"You haven't done anything. It's not your fault." He shook his head. I waited, a silent understanding between us. He could talk to me, or, if he didn't want to, he didn't have to, and I would leave him alone until he decided to join the rest of the world again. His choice.

I was about to stand and go to my room to leave him to his thoughts, when he spoke.

"You were in danger because of me. Moriarty kidnapped you, to get to me. You are in harms way, because of me. It's-" He stopped, taking a deep breath. "It's my fault."

"Is this Sherlock Holmes admitting it is his fault?" I joked.

"I"m serious, Elizabeth." He snapped.

"Okay, okay." I said. "Look, it's not your fault."

"How?" He asked, not letting me finish.

"I moved here. I got involved. I could have turned back-turned a blind eye, let you two go on without me, but I didn't. That was my choice. Don't blame yourself for my choices."

He was silent for a moment, and I thought the conversation was over, until he spoke again.

"You're in danger so long as you're with me." He said solemnly.

"Okay." I answered. His head snapped up to look at me surprised. "You know, Sherlock, if you hate me, and want to get rid of me, you can just say so." I laughed a little, trying to lighten the mood. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly.

"Never."

I smiled back at him.

The conversation was over, and we remained silent for a few minutes.

"So, these...movies that you and Lestrade were referencing." Sherlock began. I nodded.

"Lord of the Rings. What about them?" I asked.

"Well, I am just a little curious…"  
"You want to watch them?" I asked, seeing as we didn't have a case, and there was nothing else to do.

"If you don't mind." he shrugged. I smiled.

"When do you want to watch them?" I asked. He thought for a moment.

"Later. Hungry?"  
"Yeah, why?" I asked, curious. He stood up, grabbing his coat.

"Fancy some Italian?"

I paused for a moment.

"Sherlock, dear," I began. He looked at me, confused at my suddenly serious tone. "Sherlock, I love you, and you are a genius, but that was the dumbest question ever asked." He laughed a little.

"So I'm guessing that's a 'yes'?" He said, walking out of the flat. I sighed.

"Second dumbest right there." I laughed, grabbing my coat and following him out of the door.

Once we were in the cab, I grabbed my phone, telling John that Sherlock and I were going to dinner, in case he got home before us, when I heard Sherlock chuckle a little.

"You love me." He teased. My brows furrowed, and I looked at him.

"What?"  
"You love me. You said it yourself." He smiled.

"When did I say that?"  
"You said, and I quote, 'Sherlock, I love you...'" He smiled proudly. "You love me."

I felt my face go hot, and I knew my face was blood red.

"Oh." I mumbled, sheepishly. I heard him laugh. "It's not funny."

"It is a little." He said.

"How?"  
"Because, you look so nervous about it, like it was something you shouldn't have said to my face, when really, in reality, it wasn't such a big deal."

"How was it not a big deal?" I asked, almost screaming. Here I was, flustered, embarrassed beyond belief, and he thinks it's one of the funniest things.

"Because I love you, too."

I stopped. My heart stopped. I think even the cabbie hit the brakes in shock.

Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective, a man who has divorced himself from feelings, loves me….

"Really?" I asked.

"Well, obviously."

"Obviously." I repeated softly.

We arrived at the restaurant, and I was still a little shocked. I didn't expect him to say it often though, he's still...well, him, and the fact that he even said it at all was a bit surprising.

The restaurant was insanely nice, and I felt extremely underdressed. No one seemed to notice, though, as we were lead to a table.

As we ate, Sherlock pointed people out and deduced them. I laughed.

"Really?" I asked. He nodded.

"Yes. That's his girlfriend." He answered, laughing a little himself.

"How can you tell?"

"They're sitting way too close, and they're holding hands."

"Holding hands can be platonic."

"He kissed her."

I remained silent for a moment. "Where?" I asked. He sent me a 'you really don't want to know' look, and I scrunched up my nose, dropping that subject.

"Okay." I said, leaning forward, and pointing out another group of people. "What about them."

"You try."

"No way." I chuckled, leaning back in my seat.

"Why not?" He asked.

"Because, I'm not going to sit here and get everything wrong while you sit back and laugh at me." I answered.

"I won't." He promised, but I wasn't sure. "Scout's Honor." I said, raising his right hand.

"Alright fine." I said, looking back to the couple I had pointed out. "Um, she's insanely bored, and really doesn't want to be here," I began.

"And…"

"And, she's not really interested in him-she's only acting,"

"Because…" Sherlock prompted again.

"Because...she's a nice person, I don't know." I looked to Sherlock, waiting for a comment.

"You weren't too bad." He said with a shrug.

"Why, then? Why is she here?"

"She was here to meet the man she had met on an online dating site, though he didn't turn out to be the person she thought he would be."

"How can you tell?" I asked. He pointed to a paper sticking out of her bag, slightly.

"When we passed I got a look at it. His picture is on the paper, and on the top-a link to the dating site she met him on."

"Huh. Clever. But why would she have the paper?" I asked. He shrugged.

"Reference picture? Showing off?" He guessed. "It was a bit silly, I think."

"Well, people do silly things sometimes, don't we?" I asked, taking a sip of my water.

"Yes, they do, don't they."

* * *

"Alrighty, then." I said, jumping over the back of the couch, which we had moved up closer to the television. I had changed into my pajamas, and Sherlock did the same, getting pillows and a blanket from his room, while I got the movies.

I went ahead and put in The Fellowship of the Ring, while Sherlock made popcorn, and got some soda, which we had picked up after dinner.

During the movie, Sherlock didn't say anything, and every time I looked over at him, he was looking thoughtfully at the television.

"So this is what you were referencing? These movies?" I nodded.  
"Yup."

"Hmm." He hummed, and went silent again.

Sherlock didn't seem very interested at first, sitting back and watching, thoughtfully, but by the end of Return of the King, he was leaning forward, almost worried looking, and reacting to what was happening. I smiled at him a little.

"You like it?" I stated, more than asked. He sat up correcting himself, cleared his throat, and shrugged.

"Not the worst movies I've seen." He paused for a moment. "You said they were also books?" He asked. I confirmed. "Hmm."

* * *

"How was the movie marathon?" John asked. I nodded.

"It was fun. Sherlock loved the movies." I teased.

"They weren't that bad." He shrugged.

"Right, then." John went to the couch, and sat down, as the doorbell rang.

"We have this website." The guy in the middle began. "It explains the true meaning of comic books, because people miss a lot of themes." Sherlock began to walk to the other room. "But then all of the comic books start coming true."

"Oh." Sherlock stopped. "Interesting."

* * *

**So, that's where I'll leave it for now (11 pages!)**

**This chapter had some major plot points, but it was mostly just a filler, because I thought the Baker Street trio deserved a bit of a break, and so did you guys, since the last several chapters have been so hectic.**

**I'm going to try to get an update schedule going for this story, but I don't know exactly what I'm going to do just yet. I think every Saturday, but I'm not sure if it will be Saturday, or Tuesday (I was going to say Wednesday, since it was the middle of the week, but I have church then).**

**Anyway, reviews!**

Hello! :D

I think you incorporated Elizabeth into this well - and Moriarty stalking her makes so much sense. Your right about how difficult it is to get the balance for Moriarty right; a long time ago I did a fan-fiction with a forensic specialist OC who knew Moriarty from her past life, and trying to get the balance of gentleman and master villain is extremely difficult. I think, though, you pulled it off rather well :)

I'm still hooked on this story. I hope there is more time for all of the Baker Street gang to get into some shenanigans - like an LOTR marathon or something. :P

Stay awesome!

\- Elyshia Aislinn -

**Thank you, dear! I was so worried about Moriarty, and I'm glad I pulled it off!**

**I have many more upcoming shenanigans for the Baker Street gang coming up in the next few chapters that I can't wait to write!**

(For Chapter 15)

Another brilliant chapter! I'm so glad you updated. I love this story so much! And thanks for the compliment on my name :). It's the name of my first fanfiction character I ever created. I really like your name too. Just out of curiosity because it sounds elvish, is it elvish? Sorry, I am a complete Lord of the Rings geek so I had to ask lol. :)

(For Chapter 16)

Again a brilliantly wonderful chapter and I have to say, I really loved the Lord of the Rings references. I meant to mention that in my review on the last chapter too but I forgot. I can't wait to see how everything is going to play out when they meet Moriarty with Elizabeth there too! :)

~Aranel Silvertongue

**Hello! Thank you for the compliments, and It's lovely to hear from you again!**

**And you are actually one of the first people to guess that my name is elvish! I'm a big Hobbit and Lord of the Rings fan myself, and I fell in love with the elves, and elvish names. Eruaphadriel is actually elvish for a variant of my name (Sadly, they didn't have Christa. Just Christine.)**

**Throughout the whole episode, I thought of those references, and decided to put a **

**lot of them here just to give Elizabeth some more parts, and give readers a bit of an idea of Elizabeth's likes and interests, and also, I just had to get them out somehow, and have people understand, because my sister, while she watches them sometimes, used to completely loathe The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings (once she started watching Supernatural, and Dean Winchester made a few references, she decided to give them a shot, but she's still not a huge fan, like me), and my mom thought they were alright, but no one else got the references as much as my grandfather would, and he doesn't watch Sherlock (which shocked me, considering how much my grandmother and I love Benedict Cumberbatch.)**

**Sorry this is so long, I tend to ramble, if you can't already tell, haha!**

**Thank you for the review, and I hope you loved this chapter as well!**

**I think those are all of the reviews for the last chapter. I don't have anything else to say, other than, I hope you guys enjoyed, and I'll see you soon!**

_**May I always live to serve you are your crown.**_

**~Eruaphadriel**


	19. Chapter 19

**Hello! I am so, so, so, sorry for not updating sooner! I feel absolutely awful. My great Grandmother hasn't been in the best of health, and passed away recently, so after this, I don't know what the updates are going to be like for a while, if they are going to be quick and short, or if there will be a long wait in between , just until everything gets settled….**

**I'm going to try to make it up to you in the chapters afterwards, since these will be shorter, and you had to wait so long for it.**

**Also, my internet at my dads is slower, and Google Docs doesn't like to load, and constantly redirects, so I wrote some of this chapter on the notepad on the computer, planning to later copy and paste, and with all of the chaos, I totally forgot, so I lost a good chunk of this chapter, which I am **_**NOT **_ **happy about in the slightest!**

**So, so, sorry again!**

"So, what's this one? 'Belly Button Murders'?" Sherlock asked John as we walked across the stage after solving yet another case, Sherlock making fun of John titling his blogs, and he didn't understand why they needed a title in the first place.

"'The Naval Treatment'?" I suggested, with a little laugh. John laughed as well, while Sherlock only groaned, but then smiled down at me, taking my hand, leading me backstage.

"There's a lot of press outside, guys." Lestrade announced as we walked towards him.

"Well, they won't be interested in us." Sherlock responded.

"Yeah, that was before you were an internet phenomenon. A couple of them specifically wanted photographs of you." Lestrade reminded.

"For God's sake!" Sherlock exclaimed, exasperated, turning to John, who was no doubt the cause of all of this, with his blog becoming more and more popular.

John just smiled, and walked on, following behind Lestrade, as I did, while Sherlock slipped away into a room that we had walked past.

"John. Elizabeth." He said, and we both turned, looking in the doorway, only to have things thrown at us.

Sherlock had given me a black sun hat, while he held a deerstalker.

"Cover your face and walk fast." He told us, putting on his hat, and continuing to the exit.

"Still, it's good for the public image." Lestrade said.

"I'm a private detective. The last thing I need is a public image."

He opened the door, revealing tons of reporters and photographers. I took a deep breath, and followed John and Sherlock out, grabbing Sherlock's hand so I wouldn't get caught up in the crowd, and I just kept my head down, while Sherlock held his collar up, hiding his face almost completely.

Over the next couple of days, there were tons of newspapers and magazines with our faces printed on them, some of the headlines including: "_Hat-man and Robin_" (which is honestly my favorite), "Sherlock_Net 'Tec", ""Sherlock &amp; John: Blogger Detectives", and "Sherlock Holmes: net phenomenon"._

John and Sherlock had more and more people coming in with their cases, many of them Sherlock solving from his chair, but some having him go out.

I had stayed behind, focusing on my school work for a while, and, as of right now, studying for my finals, John and Sherlock going without me, but Sherlock always kept me updated, thankfully.

I had just finished looking over my notes for the day, deciding it was time to take a break, when Mrs. Hudson walked in, as she usually did, picking up a mug and a milk carton on her way to the kitchen, a mess made by Sherlock and John more than likely (I hadn't been paying much attention during the day).

"How's it coming, dear?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"Pretty good. I think I might barely pass at best." I said, leaning back and rubbing my eyes, tired from looking at the textbook and my handwriting for way too long.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll pass with flying colors." She assures me, opening the fridge. "Oh, dear." I heard her exclaim. I turned to find her holding up a bag of something I couldn't make out, but she made it quite clear. "Thumbs!" She dropped the bag, cringing. I did the same, shaking my head, and wrinkling my nose, before turning back to my work.

I heard footsteps running up the stairs, and into the kitchen. I thought it might have been John or Sherlock, but then he spoke.

"The door was ... the door was …" He panted. I rose from the chair, and walked towards him, making sure he was alright. I didn't know the original skin tone of this man, but I was positive he wasn't usually this pale, and he was out of breath, almost like he was going to pass out.

Mrs. Hudson and I stared at him, waiting for him to continue, but instead, he falls to the ground.

"Boys!" Mrs. Hudson yells. "You've got another one."

* * *

The man, whose name we learned was Phil, sat in the dining chair facing the fireplace, as all clients did, explaining to Sherlock and John how his car wouldn't start, and he spotted a hiker in a valley a far ways away, beside a river. Phil attempted to start his vehicle again, when it emitted a loud noise from the backend, and when he turned to look to the valley, the hiker was dead.

Sherlock sent John the next morning (who had been in Dublin visiting some relatives at the time) to the crime scene to investigate, not wanting to leave the flat.

I knew he was just going to laze around most of the day, maybe in some pj's, but I didn't expect to find him in the living room arguing with John over video chat,

In nothing but a sheet.

I stopped at the end of the stairs, walking into the living room, hesitantly.

"Good morning?" I said. Sherlock turned, giving me a small smile.

"Morning, dear. Sleep well?" he asked. I smiled and nodded as he turned back to John, and deducing Phil, I guessed, who was sitting in John's chair, looking uneasy.

"You alright?" I asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. He jumped when I did so, but smiled and nodded when he saw me.

"Yes."

"Would you like some coffee? Or tea?" I offered. He nodded.

"Tea, please, if you don't mind." I gave his shoulder a small squeeze before going into the kitchen and making his tea.

I kept hearing the doorbell ring from my bedroom, but no one had answered it, I guess, because Mrs. Hudson came into the flat two men in nice, expensive looking suits trailed in behind her.

"Sherlock. You weren't answering your doorbell. I went on making Phil's tea, and my coffee.

"His room's through the back. Get him some clothes." I heard one of them say, then the man was walking through our kitchen.

"Morning miss." He greeted me, and I grinned at him, politely, but not saying anything, having no clue who these men were, or what they were doing here.

"Who the hell are you?" I heard Sherlock ask.

" Sorry, Mr Holmes, Miss. Watson. You're coming with us."

The man who had walked into Sherlock's room a few seconds ago, now came out with a stack of clothes belonging to Sherlock, and with a nod of his head, motioned for me to go into the living room. I put down the mugs, and walked in behind him, going to stand beside Sherlock.

"Please, Mr Holmes. Where you're going, you'll want to be dressed." the first one insisted. I looked at Sherlock, who was smiling, smugly.

"Oh, I know _exactly_ where I'm going."

* * *

I sat down and sighed, mostly at Sherlock, who had refused to put clothes on, like a two year old, and stayed wrapped up in his little cocoon. It was a little humorous though, you know, if I wasn't really associated with him.

"You are a child." I said. He turned to me.

"And you're not? Remember your sleeves?" He said, referencing to the art gallery, and me hitting him with the jacket sleeves.

"I'm surprised you remember it."

"Of course I do." he said, as if I was an idiot for thinking he wouldn't. "You were there, how could I forget?" he said. I smiled at him, and laughed a little as he leaned in for a kiss.

I laughed and pushed him back.

"When you're not naked, and we're not in Buckingham Palace, _then_ you can kiss me." I joked.

"I'm not naked, look, I have a sheet." He began to argue, making me giggle more.

"Under that sheet."

"And under your clothes. I wasn't going to say anything." he began to smile himself, humorously. "Didn't want to embarrass you."

I began to cackle, and quickly covered my mouth, trying not to make too much noise, and, I hated my laugh.

I didn't know what had gotten into Sherlock Holmes today, but I didn't want it to change. I liked Sherlock anyway, but he was in a great mood, and I didn't want anyone or anything to spoil that.

Our laughter died down, and after a moment, John walked in, sitting on the couch beside us, obviously confused. He leaned over me, looking at Sherlock, and waited a while before asking: "Are you wearing any pants?"

"No." Sherlock replied, simply.  
"Okay."

Then we all three bust out laughing at the situation, me, remembering the conversation Sherlock and I just had when John mentioned his sheet, and I held in my laughter until this point.

"At Buckingham Palace, fine." John cleared his throat, trying to get himself under control. "Oh, I'm seriously fighting an impulse to steal an ashtray." he said, making Sherlock and I laugh again.

"What are we doing here, Sherlock, look, seriously, what?" I asked.

"I don't know."

"Here to see the queen?" I asked, jokingly, as Mycroft walked in.

"Oh, apparently yes." John and I crack up again, and Sherlock joins us, his loud, baritone laugh filling the hall.

"For one, could you three behave like grown ups?" Mycroft asked, obviously not willing to put up with any funny business today.

"We solve crimes, John blogs about it, and he forgets his pants, so I wouldn't hold out too much hope." I laughed.

All of the humour was gone from Sherlock's face, as he looked up at his brother.

"I was in the middle of a case, Mycroft." Sherlock announces

" What, the hiker and the backfire? I glanced at the police report. Bit obvious, surely?" Mycroft said.

"Transparent." Sherlock said, and I looked at John, who seemed very shocked.

"Time to move on, then." Mycroft picked up Sherlock's clothes and handed them to his younger brother, who turned his head away from them, refusing to put them on.

"We are in Buckingham Palace, the very heart of the British nation. Sherlock Holmes, put your trousers on." Mycroft ordered, sternly.

"What for?" He asked.

"Your client."

"And my client is?" Sherlock asked, standing.

"Illustrious …" a man said, walking into the room. "...in the extreme" John stood respectively, and I followed suit. "And remaining – I have to inform you – entirely anonymous." he looked to Mycroft, greeting him with a handshake.

"May I just apologise for the state of my little brother?" mycroft says to him.

"Full time occupation, I imagine." The equerry said.

"And this must be Doctor John Watson, formerly of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers, and his beautiful sister, Elizabeth." He said, turning to us, shaking mine and John's hand. " My employer is a tremendous fan of your blog."

"Your employer?" John asked surprised.

"Particularly enjoyed the one about the aluminium crutch." he told John.

"Thank you!" John said, clearing his throat smugly, looking at Sherlock, and then to me, happily. I knew he was over the moon.

The equerry walked closer to Sherlock.

"And Mr Holmes the younger. You look taller in your photographs." he observes.

"I take the precaution of a good coat and short friends." I turned to John, who looked at me and smiled, seeing as I was shorter than he was. I frowned at him, and turned back to Sherlock and the equerry.

"Mycroft, I don't do anonymous clients. I'm used to mystery at _one_ end of my cases. Both ends is too much work. Good morning." he said, and began to walk out, but Mycroft caught him by the train of his sheet, and luckily Sherlock caught it just in time, and wrapped it around the lower half of his body, though I was prepared to look away, and John even sent a look to me, though I don't know what I did. He was the one wearing the sheet. I was innocent.  
"This is a matter of national importance. Grow up." Mycroft said, angrily.

"Get off my sheet!" Sherlock said through his teeth.

"Or what?"

"Or I'll just walk away."

"I'll let you."

"Boys." John intervened. "Not here."  
"Who. Is. My. _Client_?" Sherlock asked.

"Take a look at where you're standing and make a deduction. You are to be engaged by the highest in the land. Now _for God's sake …" _Mycroft turned to the equerry, as if suddenly remembering he was here, and tried to control his anger. " ... put your clothes on!"

* * *

**Like I said, I am so sorry this is so short, but I wanted to give you guys **_**something**_ **for now, since i have been gone for so long! I am so insanely sorry, you guys have no idea how bad I feel. I think this is actually the longest I've gone without updating, and I feel horrible!**

**Anyway, ReViEwS:**

_**From: Guest **_

_**:I really love the way you incorporate Elizabeth in the script. Will she help Molly with Tom in the future? Also the whole reichenbach thing how will that affect her?**_

**Hello, dear Guest! Thank you for reviewing!**

**It is difficult to incorporate her in some parts, and i am so happy you like it! She will most definitely help Molly with Tom in the future, and I don't know why, and I may have explained it before, but I don't see Molly as being a hateful, or vengeful person, I think she is very sweet, so when I imagined Sherlock in a relationship, I imagined Molly being a very good sport about it, though not completely moving on, but making an effort to get to know, and become friends with the woman he chose, and I imagined Elizabeth to be the same-kind, not very vengeful, so they immediately have some common traits there.**

**As for the Reichenbach, I have some mixed feelings about that one, but I think I know just what I'm going to do, and it's coming up quickly! I don't want to spoil anything, though ;).**

**Thank you for the review, great to hear from you!**

_**Bonjour!**_

_**I'm glad to read about the Baker Street gang in their down time between cases - it really is like the calm between the storms. I was so excited when the LOTR marathon actually happened - they are easily my favourite films and I'm reading the series currently. Middle Earth feels like home to me. I love the relationship between Elizabeth and Sherlock, with their awkwardness and adorableness. I'm looking forward to any more references in the cases ahead, and for the cases that aren't included in the episodes!**_

_**Looking forward to reading more, and hope you are doing well! :)**_

_**By my hand and seal,**_

_**\- Elyshia Aislinn -**_

_**P.S. I just found my name translation in Elvish! It's Valainistima (Vah-line-ihs-tee-mah) and it means divine learning. Maybe I'll change my pen name to it later...**_

_**Just thought you might like to know ;)**_

_**Stay awesome.**_

**Bonjour! Comment avez-vous été? (**_**How have you been?)**_

**I'm so sorry I didn't include The Geek Interpreter! (maybe I'll make a side book with all of the cases mentioned in John's blog? Or add them on to the end of this book as like bonus chapters or something? I haven't decided yet, but I do plan to add them in, definitely!)**

**I love Tolkien in general, and I love Middle Earth, especially The Shire, Mirkwood, and Rivendale, and to be honest, those places together, is how I imagine Heaven.**

**I try to make references to any movies or TV shows I've seen, and there will hopefully be much more in the future.**

**Your name in Elvish is so beautiful! I love it, and the meaning! Thanks for sharing that with me!**

_**From: belladu57**_

_**Very good**_

**Thank you, dear, and I don't believe we've met before, so have some cookies (Sadly, I can't give you actual cookies :( )**

**That's all of the reviews, but I'm not finished!**

**Those who know me, know that I am a very musical person. I play many instruments (Piano, guitar, French Horn, and hopefully, violin very soon), and I also, sing, and I love music, and sharing music with people.**

**So I have decided to share some music with you guys each update!**

**You don't have to listen, of course, and it really doesn't have anything to do with the chapter content, just something new I listened too, and think you might enjoy, sometimes, classical (which I love(, or movie scores, sometimes folk, or alternative, and hundreds of other different genres.**

**So, the first song that I am going to share with you guys is actually a movie score, from one of my favorite movies, '**_**The Boy in the Striped Pajamas'**_ **called '**_**Remembrance, Remembrance'**_**. It is a beautiful song that I have been learning for a few weeks now on piano, and I am in love with it. (Which I am a big fan of Holocaust movies, which sounds bad, but I love the psychology behind it)**** And though the movie might not be realistic, it shows the innocents of a child, and how, to them, being a Jew, or being different in general, didn't matter. To these little boys, the other boy, was a human, just like him. Bruno didn't see Shmuel as a horrible person just because he was a Jew, and Shmuel didn't view Bruno differently because he wasn't a Jew, which was not very common at the time. It shows how big of a heart they had, especially Bruno, who wanted to help Shmuel find his dad, and how he wanted to be friends with Shmuel, and brought him food, despite all his tutor taught him about the Jewish race-how they were bad and they were the reason Germany was in such a bad shape (which was all lies, but that's what a lot of them thought)**

**And I think the song really illustrates the movie very well. It is simple, and beautiful, yet it has an element of sadness that you can't ignore, just like the situation. To the boys, it was simple-they were both humans with a beating heart, and they liked to play ball, and run around, as little boys should, though one wasn't privileged enough to do so, sadly, and their friendship was a beautiful thing-they weren't supposed to be friends, yet they I think that's the sad thing about it, is that they weren't supposed to be friends, or seen together, and the Jews were treated so horribly.**

**The movie also shows the lies the Germans were fed about the concentration camps, about how they were good, and the Jews were having fun and playing games-going to the cafe and meeting with their families, while really, the Jews were being separated from their families, becoming ill and dying, being murdered my Nazies, and being hated, abandoning their faith, because they believed God had forsaken them,being forced to work, march, and run under horrible conditions, and then be given a pitiful amount of soup and bread, and forced to sleep in close, unsanitary quarters**

**I've spent a lot of time thinking about this, can ya tell? ;)**

**And my mom took a Hitler class when I was little, and when I couldn't sleep, I would go into the kitchen, and she would talk to me about the class, and what she learned, and, if she still had them, I would LOVE to read her notes and books. (She almost got to borrow ** _**Mein Kampf**_**, a book Hitler wrote that translates to **_**My Struggle**_**, and it is very old, and the copy her teacher was going to let her borrow was a rare edition, but sadly, he passed away before she ever got the chance, and I don't know why that little fact makes me excited, that my mom almost got to read Hitler's book, and maybe it shouldn't, but it does.)**

**Also, the book 'Night' by Elie Wiesel is an amazing read, and it tells, first hand, the struggles of a Jew during those times, and, if I got the chance, I would read it again.**

**Anyway, I just wanted to share that with you guys, and rant a little, and I hope, if you listen, that you enjoy the song just as much as I do, and that you enjoy the movie, if you choose to watch it!**

**I promise, the next time it won't be so long, but the chapter will be longer!**

**See you guys soon!**

_**May I always live to serve you and your crown.**_

_**~Eruaphadriel.**_


	20. Chapter 20

**Hey guys! This story is now legally allowed to drink in my country!**

**Quick thing: 15-20th of this month, I may not be able to write, because I may be going to Chicago with my amazing friend who invited me to go with her family, so updates again may be slower than normal.**

**Anyway, here is the chapter, and I hope you enjoy!**

"I'll be mother." Mycroft said, referencing the old superstition that only one person-usually the mother-in a household can pour tea , and the person pouring it is "Being mother".

"And there's a whole childhood in a nutshell." Sherlock said with a small sigh. Mycroft glared at him and put down the teapot.

"My employer has a problem." The equerry said to Sherlock.

"A matter has come to light of an extremely delicate and potentially criminal nature, and in this hour of need, dear brother, your name has arisen." Mycroft explained.

"Why? You have a police force of sorts, even a marginally Secret Service. Why come to me?" Sherlock asked.

"People do come to you for help, don't they Mr. Holmes?" The equerry asked.

"Not to date anyone with the navy."

"This is a matter of highest security, therefore trust." Mycroft explained.

"You don't trust your own Secret Service?" I asked.

"Naturally not. They all spy on people for money." I tried to hold back an amused smile.

"I do think we have a time table." The equerry said to Mycroft.

"Yes, of course, um…" He opened his briefcase and took out photographs, handing them to Sherlock. I leaned over to look at them as well, before, awkwardly, looking away, sending a glare at Mycroft, who glared back at me.

"What do you know about this woman?" he asked Sherlock.

"Nothing whatsoever."

"Thank goodness." I mumbled.

"Then you should be paying more attention."

"No I don't think so." John sent a look my way, but I ignored it. Mycroft seemed to hear me, but the equerry didn't.

"She's been at the centre of two political scandals in the last year, and recently ended the marriage of prominent novelist by having an affair with both participants, separately."

"Awesome." I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. John then bumped my leg with his, sending me a questioning look. Again, I ignored him.

"You know I don't concern myself with trivia. Who is she?" Sherlock asked his brother.

"Irene Adler, professionally known as The Woman."

"Professionally?" I asked.

"There are many names for what she does, though she prefers 'dominatrix'.

Oh this is going to be a fun case….note the sarcasm.

"Dominatrix." Sherlock repeated, going through the photos.

"Don't be alarmed. It's to do with sex."

"Sex doesn't alarm me." Sherlock responded.

"How would you know." I had to hold back a laugh at Mycroft's comment, while Sherlock only glared up at his brother.

"She provides-shall we say-recreational scolding, for those who enjoy that sort of thing, and are prepared to pay for it."

"So, she's basically a glorified prostitute. Can't wait to meet her." I said, bitterly.

"And I assume this Adler woman has some compromising photographs?" Sherlock guessed.

"You're very quick, Mr. Holmes." the equerry complimented.

"Hardly a difficult deduction. Photographs of whom?"

"A person of significance to my employer. We'd prefer not to say more at this time." The equerry answered.

"You can't tell us anything?" John asked, and Sherlock put the photos on the table.

"I can tell you it's a young person. A young, female person." I raised my eyebrows in surprise, while Sherlock only smirked.

"How many photographs." Sherlock asked.

"A considerable number, apparently."

"Do Miss. Adler and this young female person appear in these photographs together?"

"Yes, they do."

"And I assume in a number of compromising scenarios."

"An imaginative range, we are assured."

I looked over to John, and laughed a little,silently, before speaking.

"You can put your sup in your sauser, now, Johnny boy." John was staring blankly at Mycroft, his cup held up from the saucer, and, as soon as I said something, he snapped back to reality, and puts his cup back down.

"Can you help us Mr. Holmes?" The equerry asked.

"How?" He asked.

"Will you take the case?"

"What case? Pay her, now and in full. As Miss Adler remarks in her masthead, "Know when you are beaten." Sherlock grabbed his coat, which was thrown over the back of the couch.

"She doesn't want anything." Mycroft said, causing Sherlock to turn towards him.

"She got in touch, she informed us that the photographs existed, she indicated that she has no intention to use them to extort either money or favor." Mycroft elaborated.

"Oh, a power play. A power play with the most powerful family in Britain. Now that is a dominatrix." Sherlock said, suddenly interested. "Ooh, this is getting rather fun, isn't it?"

"Sherlock." John warned, feeling my...unease, for lack of a better word.

"Hmm." He hummed, reaching for his coat again

"Where is she?" Sherlock asked.

"Uh, in London, currently. She's staying…"

"Text me the details. I'll be in touch by the end of the day." Sherlock announced.

"Do you really think you'll have news by then?" The equerry asked.

"No, I think I'll have the photographs."

"One can only hope you're as good as you say you are." The equerry said.

"I'll need some equipment, of course."

"Anything you require. I'll have it sent to…"

"Can I have a box of matches?" Sherlock asked, interrupting.

"I'm sorry?" The equerry asked, as Sherlock had directed the question to him.

"Or your cigarette lighter. Either will do." He held out his hand.

"I don't smoke." The equerry said.

"No, I know you don't but your employer does."

After a pause, the equerry reached into his pocket, and took out a lighter, giving it to Sherlock.

"We have kept a lot of people successfully in the dark about this little fact, Mr. Holmes."

"I'm not the Commonwealth." Sherlock said, then turned and left.

"And that's as modest as he gets. Pleasure to meet you." John said, before leaving, me following close behind.

"Laters!" Sherlock said, not sounding the 't'. I sighed, and shook my head

"Okay, the smoking. How did you know?" John asked. I was stuck between then, as always.

"The evidence was right under your nose, John. As ever, you seen but do not observe."

"Observe what?" John asked. Sherlock only reached into his coat, and flashed an ashtray quickly, causing John to laugh.

"The ashtray." He says, simply, tossing the ashtray into the air, and then catching it, putting it back in his coat, chuckling.

As soon as we arrive at 221b, Sherlock rushes to his bedroom, leaving the door open, clothes flying every which way.

"What are you doing?" I asked, walking down the hallway.

"Going into battle, love. I need the right armor." He explained, putting on a large, yellow jacket, looking to me with his arms stretched. I shook my head.

"No." I said.

"No." He repeated, shrugging the jacket off, and flinging it across the room. I chuckle a little, shaking my head, before pushing off of the doorframe and walking back into the living room with John.

"So what's the plan?" John asked.

"We know her address."

"What, just ring her doorbell?" I asked, the plan seeming a little less…well, elaborate than I thought it might be.

"Exactly. Stop here please." Sherlock said, and the cab stopped.

"You didn't even change your clothes." I noticed as we got out.

"Then it's time to add a splash of color." He said, taking off his scarf.

"Are we here?" John asked.

"Two streets away, but this'll do."

"For what?" I asked.

"Punch me in the face." Sherlock says to John, who looked at him confused.

"Punch you?" He asked.

"Yes. Punch me, in the face, didn't you hear me?" He says, gesturing to his left cheek.

"I always here 'punch me in the face' when you're speaking, but it's usually subtext." John joked, and I laughed a little. Before I knew what was happening, Sherlock punched John, and Sherlock braced himself, while John straightens, immediately punching Sherlock out of anger.

"Ow!" John exclaimed. Sherlock looked at his knuckles.

"Thank you, that was—that way—" Sherlock never got to finished, though, because John hit him in the stomach, causing him to double over, John on his back, strangling him, while I stood, shocked, and confused.

"Okay! I think we're done now, John."

"You wanna remember, Sherlock; I was a soldier. I killed people."

"You were a doctor!" Sherlock reminded.

"_I had bad days!_

"Okay, John, enough. Enough!" I yelled, doing my best to pull John off of Sherlock. He retreated, and Sherlock rose up, giving John a confused look. John only shrugged. I noticed Sherlock had a gash on his cheek where John had punched him.

"Okay, now Elizabeth, come here." Sherlock said, but I stayed away.

"You're not going to punch me too, are you?" I asked.

"No."

"I'm not going to have to punch you, am I?" I asked.

"No, ju- Elizabeth, please come here." He begged, and I did so, walking over towards him, meeting him halfway. He pulled something from his pocket-a small box-and handed it to me. I looked at him quizzically, and opened it, revealing a small diamond ring.

"Wha-" I began, but Sherlock held up a hand to stop me. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see John walking forward a few steps, but I couldn't tell if he was angry or not.

"Put it on your ring finger." He commanded.

"But, wha-" He turned, before I could finish, walking towards the road, buttoning his top button, and pulling out a piece of white plastic, putting it in his collar, like the 'dog collar; of a vicar. I looked to John, who look at me, confused, before we followed him, putting the ring on, and putting the box in my pocket. The ring fit perfectly, and it was beautiful-not too big, but not small either, with small diamonds surrounding the larger one in the middle.

We walked a few blocks in silence. I had caught up with Sherlock, walking beside him, and he grabbed my hand, his thumb playing with the ring on my finger.

We reached, what I guessed was Irene's house, and Sherlock ordered John to stay back, explaining that he was a doctor and a bystander, and to play along. I was going to stay with him, unsure of my role in Sherlock's little production, but he kept a hold of my hand, and pulled me with him to the doorbell, ringing it ,and taking a tissue from my pocket, putting it on his face.

"Act anxious and scared." He said in a low voice, ruffling my hair a bit.

"I can't act." I said. He looked at me.

"Of course you can. You were fine the last time we did this. Remember?" he said, and the intercom buzzed, signaling someone had answered.

"Hello?" A woman said.

"Ohh! Um, sorry to disturb you. Um, my wife and I, um, we've just been attacked, um, and, um, I think they…they took my wallet, and, um, my phone. Um, please could you help us?" he said in a posh accent, and I had to try so hard not to laugh at him, or crack a smile, I succeeded, surprisingly, and stayed silent.

"I can phone the police if you want." She suggested.

"Thank you, thank you! Could you, please?" He asked. "Oh, would you…would you mind if I just waited here, just until they come? Thank you. Thank you so much." Sherlock said, tearfully, lifting the tissue to the scar on his face, beginning to whimper. We were buzzed in.

John followed us inside, closing the door behind him.

"I-I saw it happen. It's okay, I'm a doctor." He explained. "Now have you got a first aid kit?" he asked.

"In the kitchen." The woman said, gesturing for Sherlock and I to sit in the front room.

"Please." She said, gesturing to the room.

"Ooh! Thank you." Sherlock said, still in character.

"Thank you." John repeated, going into the kitchen behind Kate.

We sat on the sofa, and I turned to Sherlock.

"Not that I don't mind playing your wife all the time, but why?" I asked.

"We only needed one 'witness'-in this case, John- and, if we were 'married', they wouldn't split us up-we would stay together."

"Okay." I said, partially getting that he was saying, before it all going silent.

"You don't mind, do you?" He asked, quickly. I shook my head.

"Not at all, I just said I didn't, I was just wondering why, is all." I said, but then cracked a smile. "But, you know," I held up my left hand, showing him the ring. "If you want to marry me, all you have to do is ask." I said, jokingly. He rolled his eyes and scoffed, but a smile was on his face. I laughed, leaning into his shoulder.

"We haven't been together _that_ long." He said, still laughing a little.

"Mmm. How long has it been?" I asked, curious. He took a deep breath.

"Eight months and 28 days." I turned to him, surprised, and he sent me a warm, genuine smile. I smiled back at him. "Well, I'm not naked. And we're not in Buckingham Palace." He suggested, and I laughed, but we went back into character after hearing footsteps approaching.

"Hello. Sorry to hear you've been hurt. I don't think Kate caught your name." A woman said. I was looking down at my fingernails as Sherlock spoke.

"I'm so sorry. I'm…" He stopped, and I looked up to see what made him pause.

A woman stood in the doorway, wearing heels…just that. Just heels. Other than her shoes, she was stark naked, and confident about it, too. I looked away, quickly, slamming my knee into Sherlock's, whose jaw had dropped slightly.

"Oh, it's hard to forget an alias when you've had a fright, isn't it?" She asked, walking towards us. She stood right in front of him, half kneeling on the couch, straddling his legs, and I scooted away, wanting to be far away as possible. I rolled my eyes, disgusted. She pulled the dog collar from his shirt. "There, now we're both defrocked." She said, smiling at him.

"Mr. Sherlock Holmes."

"Miss, Adler, I presume." I said, drawing attention to myself, reminding her that-hello!-I'm _right _here! She only smiled at me, before turning her attention back to Sherlock.

"Look at those cheekbones. I could cut myself slapping that face. Would you like me to try?" She asked, narrowing her eyes and putting the dog collar in her mouth, biting the edge of it. John walked in, holding a bowl and a napkin, and I looked at him, pleadingly, hoping he could do _something_ to get us out of here, or cover her up.

"I've missed something, haven't I?" He asked. Irene stepped back from Sherlock, thank goodness, and he fidgeted on the sofa, uncomfortably.

"Oh, if you'd like some tea I can call the maid." She suggests.

"We had some at the Palace." Sherlock tells her.

"I know." She smiled, sitting in an armchair, crossing her legs and folding her arms, covering herself.

"Clearly." Sherlock mumbles. I scooted back to my original spot, but Sherlock just stared at her. I looked back to John, begging he would do something.

"I had tea too, at the Palace, if anyone is interested." He said, trying to get the attention of the room, but they ignored him.

Sherlock, after looking at Irene for a long time, looked at John, then back to Irene. He stared at her, and she let him, before turning his gaze from her, to me.

I didn't know what was going on, but the third time his eyes wandered between us, I was sure we were being compared in some way, whether it be deductions, or something else. Both way, I was becoming self-conscious, and my self-esteem was plummeting.

"D'you know what the problem is with a disguise, Mr. Holmes?" She asked. "However hard you try, it's always a self-portrait."

"You think I'm a vicar with a bleeding face?" Sherlock asked.

"No, I think you're damaged, delusional, and believe in a higher power. In your case, it's yourself." Sherlock unbuttoned the two buttons on his shirt, fed up with them, and Irene leaned forward. "Oh, and somebody loves you." She said. "Why, if I had to punch that face, I'd avoid your nose and teeth too."

"Could you put something on, please? Er, anything at all?" John asked, looking down, and holding out a napkin. "A napkin?" he offered. She only smiled.

"Why? Are you feeling exposed?" She asked.

"I don't think John knows where to look." Sherlock said, standing, picking up his coat, and handing it to Irene, who ignored him for the time being, walking over to my brother, who kept eye contact only, uncomfortably.

"No, I think he knows exactly where to look." Irene said. She then turned to Sherlock, who was attempting to avoid looking at the dominatrix.

"I'm not sure about you." Irene said, taking his coat.

"if I wanted to look at naked women, I'd borrow John's laptop." Sherlock said. I almost laughed.

"You do borrow my laptop." John stated, and I raised my eyebrows at Sherlock.

"I confiscate it." He corrected, walking over to the fireplace.

"Well, never mind. We've got better things to talk about." Irene said, wrapping Sherlock's coat around her, and sitting on the couch right beside me, taking off her shoes. She gave me a small smile as she sat down, and I returned it not wanting to be rude, even though I really, really, _really_ did _not_ like her. "Now tell me, I need to know. How was it done?" She asked

"What?"

"The hiker with the bashed in head. How was he killed?"

"That's not why I'm here." Sherlock said.

"No, no, no, you're here for the photographs, but that's never going to happen, and since we're here just chatting anyway…."

"That story's not been on the news yet. How do you know about it?" I asked. She turned to look at me.

"I know one of the policemen." I nodded.

"Oh." I said.

"Well, I know what he _likes._" She elaborated.

"Oh." I said in a lower octave, understanding what she meant. "And you like policemen?"

"I like detectives." She said. "And detective stories. Brainy is thenew sexy." She looked at Sherlock.

"Positionofthe car…" Sherlock said, incoherently. "Er, the position of the car relative to the hiker at the time of the backfire. That and the fact that the death blow was to the back of the head. That's all you need to know." Sherlock said, slowly this time.

"Okay, tell me: How was he murdered?" Irene asked.

"He wasn't."

"You don't think it was murder."

"I know it wasn't."

"How?" She asked.

"The same way I know the victim was an excellent sportsman recently returned from foreign travel and that the photographs are in this room."

"Okay, but how."  
"So they are in this room. Thank you. John, man the door." Sherlock ordered, and John left the room, shutting the large door behind him.

"Two men alone in the countryside, several yards apart and one car." Sherlock says, beginning to pace.

"Oh I-I thought you were looking for the photographs." Irene said, confused.

"No, looking takes ages. I'm just going to find them, but you're moderately clever and we've got a moment, so let's pass time. The driver's trying to fix his engine. Getting nowhere. And the hiker's taking a moment, looking at the sky. Watching birds? Any moment now something's going to happen."

_The car will backfire._

"The hiker's going to die." Irene states.

"No." _Ha! "_That's the result. What's going to _happen?"_ Sherlock asked again.

"I don't understand." Irene said.

"Oh, well, try to." I mumbled.

"Why?" She asked, turning to me, a rude look on her face.

"Oh, because you cater to the whims of the pathetic, and take your clothes off to make an impression. Stop boring me and think." Sherlock said, coming to my rescue, because, honestly, I didn't know what to say there. "It's the new sexy." He added, sarcastically.

"The car's going to backfire." She finally answered, and I almost applauded.

"There's going to be a loud noise." Sherlock adds.  
"So, what?"

"So, you like detectives, and you like detective stories, yet you can't figure out why a loud noise is in any way important to this case, or any case, really?" I asked. She glared at me, and Sherlock looked at me, confused.

"She is right, though." He smirked. "That's why I like her. She's smart." He sent a almost unnoticeable sink at me, before continuing. "She's right, noises are important. Noises can tell you everything. For instance…" He paused, and the fire alarm went off at just the right moment. I looked at Sherlock, who was watching Irene, who was staring at the mirror above the fireplace.

"Thank you. On hearing a smoke alarm, a mother would look towards her child. Amazing how fire exposes our priorities." He walked towards the fireplace.

"Really hope you don't have a baby in there." I said, as he pressed a button under the mantel piece and the mirror rose to reveal a safe.

"Alright, John, you can turn it off now!" Sherlock yelled, but the alarm kept beeping. "I said you can turn it off now." He repeated.

"Give me a minute." Came his muffled reply, before the alarm went off.

"Hmm. Should always use gloves with these things, you know." I stood up to get a better view of what he was talking about, and he gestured me over. "Come here, dear. Just might learn something." he said with a smile. I walked to stand beside him, ready to listen. "Heaviest oil deposit's always on the first key used – that's quite clearly the three – but after that the sequence is almost impossible to read. I'd say from the make that it's a six digit code. Can't be your birthday – no disrespect but clearly you were born in the eighties; the eight's barely used, so ... " he said, turning to Irene, and then back to the safe, trying to figure out the code.

"I'd tell you the code right now, but you know what, I already have." Irene said from behind us. Sherlock frowned at her. "Think." She said as the door burst open, and a man had his pistol aimed at Sherlock, while other men followed in behind with John, each of the men's pistols pointed at us.

"Hands behind your head. On the floor. Keep it still." I stayed standing, confused as to what they wanted me to do, considering the command was directed towards Irene. None of them even glanced my way.

"Sorry Sherlock." John said, as he walked into the room, standing beside Irene.

"Miss. Adler, on the floor." The first one said-American. John, Irene, and I were all shoved to our knees, mine hitting the hard floor. A gun was pointed at both of them, and I assumed one was pointed at me, too.

"Do you want me on my knees too?" Sherlock asked.

"No, sir, I want you to open the safe." He said.

"American. Interesting. Why would you care?" Sherlock asked.

"Sir, the safe, now." The man said.

"I don't know the code." he said honestly.

"We've been listening. She said she told you."  
"Well assuming you've been listening, you would know that she didn't."

"I'm assuming I missed something. From your reputation I assume you didn't, Mr. Holmes."

"For God's sake, she's the one who knows the code. Ask her." I said, annoyed.  
"Yes, ma'am. She also knows the code that automatically calls the police." he informed me. "I've learned not to trust this woman."

"Mr. Holmes doesn't…" Irene began, but the man cut her off.

"Shut up. One more word out of you, just one, and I will decorate that wall with the inside of your head. That, for me, will not be a hardship."

I didn't really like Irene-that is a fact that everyone in the past five minutes has more than likely picked up on, but I didn't want her to die, and I didn't like how this guy was talking to her. Made me nervous.

"On the count of three, shoot the Watson's." He commanded.

"I don't have the code." Sherlock repeated.

"One." The man began.

"I don't know the code." Sherlock said, empathetically.

"Two."  
"She didn't tell me. I don't know it!" he insisted.

"I'm prepared to believe you any second now. Three." I closed my eyes, and waited.

"No, stop!" Sherlock shouted, and I tried to slow my breathing as Sherlock began punching numbers into the safe.

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes." The man said as the safe clicked open, but Sherlock didn't open the door all the way. "Open it, please." he asked. Sherlock held his hand on the safe's handle, and looked to Irene, who was looking at the floor.

"Vatican Cameos." Sherlock said urgently, and opened the safe, moving out of the way, grabbing the gun from the first man's grip while the bullet fired from the safe hit one of the other men.

Everything moved in fast motion, and I had no clue what to do, seeing as I had never been in a situation like this before. Before I knew it, though, Irene, John, and Sherlock all three had guns and the men that barged into the room were lying on the ground, some unconscious I looked at Sherlock, who seemed pleased with himself. He caught my eye..

"Photographs?" I mouthed to him. His smile widened, and he patted his pocket.  
"Photographs." He mouthed back, confirming. I smiled a little as well.

"He's dead." John said, kneeling down beside the man who had been shot.

"Thank you." Irene said to Sherlock. "You were very observant."

"Observant?"

"I'm flattered."

"Don't be."

"Flattered?" I asked, confused.

"There'll be more of them. They'll be keeping an eye on the building,"

Sherlock rushed out of the room, John and I following.

"We should call the police." John said as we walked outside. Sherlock had taken the silencer off of the pistol he stole from one of the men, and held it in the air.

"Yes." He agreed, shooting the gun in the air. I covered my ears. "They're on their way."

"For God's sake!" John shouted.

"Oh, shut up, its quick." Sherlock responded, walking back inside, and I heard police sirens coming this way.

"Check the rest of the house, see how they got in." Sherlock ordered, and I went with John to check the house.

We walked, silently, upstairs, walking into a bedroom. John was looking around, and I noticed a body lying on the floor.

"John." I said, running towards the body, making sure she was breathing.

"Sherlock!" John called. Sherlock arrived, Irene directly behind him. "Must have come this way."

"Clearly."

"It's alright, she's just out cold." John said. I rose from the ground, and stood beside Sherlock.

"Well, God knows she's used to that."I rene responded. "There's a backdoor. Better check, Watsons."

"Sure." John said, and we left the room together.

We checked the back door, and it was locked, so we walked back upstairs.

"Jesus." I heard John exclaim before I got into the room myself. "What are you doing?"

I walked in and saw Sherlock on the ground, half conscious.

"He'll sleep for a few hours. Make sure he doesn't choke on his own vomit, It makes for an attractive corpse."Irene told us, sitting on the windowsill in her bathroom, holding onto a rope.

I rushed and kneeled beside Sherlock, trying to see if I could get him to stay awake, at least until we got him into a cab, because how bad would it look, us dragging an unconscious Sherlock around and into a cab? Sherlock was slipping, though.

"What did you do to hm?" John asked.

"He'll be fine. I've used it on all of my friends."

"Sherlock, can you hear me?" I asked him, but got no real answer, only a groan.

"You know, I was wrong about him. He did know where to look." Irene said.

"For what?" I asked angrily. "What are you talking about?"

"The key code to my safe."

"What was it?"

"Should I tell her?" Irene asked, looking down at Sherlock, who was still trying to get up, but it was no use.

"My measurments."  
She said, before flipping out of the window. John rushed over to it, trying ot find her, but found nothing.

* * *

John had been giving me odd looks during the cab ride, but refrained from saying anything, while I held a sleeping Sherlock in my arms. He had been sitting in between us to keep him from falling over and hitting his head on the window, and the cabbie had been glaring at us, but when we hit a curve, Sherlock tilted my way, his head landing on my shoulder, so to help us seem less suspicious, I wrapped my arm around his shoulders lovingly, and placed a kiss to his head, and the cabbie began to look back at us less and less often.

WHen we got back to the flat, John carried slightly confused, rambling Sherlock to bed while I got him a glass of water , just in case, and set it on the bedside table. When I walked into his room, though, he was already back to sleep, so I sighed and shut the door as quietly as I could, trying not to wake him. Sherlock rarely ever slept, so I didn't want to wake him, seeing that he needed at least a few hours, even if they were drug induced.

I walked back into the kitchen and grabbed a frozen meal from the fridge, looking back at John.

"Want one?" I asked, prepared to make another if he wanted it.

"Not at the moment." He said, already typing away at his laptop. "I might have one later. Thank you, though." He said.

"So." John said, shutting his laptop and walking into the kitchen. "Irene."

"What about her?" I yanked the microwave door open, pulling out a jar of God knows what (I got used to finding things around the flat, usually hidden where food was stored) and slamming it on the counter.

"No-nothing, it's just, um, that was-"

"Humiliating?Awkward? THe reason why I no longer have any self confidence?" I suggested sourly.

"Elizabeth." He sighed.

"Sherlock seems to really like her." I continued. "She did make quite the impression. And he payed attention, knowing her measurements and all." I slammed my food into the microwave, and shut the door, pressing the buttons.

"Elizabeth, are you worried? That he may like her more than you?" He asked. I only shrugged. "Elizabeth, listen." He said, but I didn't look at him. Yes, I was a little worried. Irene was much more attractive than I was, and so much more confident than I could ever hope to be, and she was much more clever and interesting, and they both seemed to hit it off great. They also got along very well, which, with Sherlock, is rare.

But, if Sherlock would rather be with Irene, yes it would hurt like Hades, but that would be what he wanted.

I didn't fight with Jem. When I found him and my friend in our apartment, I only told him to leave if that was what he really wanted, if she was who he really wanted to be with instead of me. He made his choice, and I didn't try to stop him or reason with him. That's what he wanted, and what made him happy, and who was I to try and deny him his happiness just for the sake of mine?

Same with Sherlock. If he would rather be with Irene, and if Irene made him happy, I wasn't going to try and make him miserable.

I'll probably just go buy a bunch of those cats I always talked about having. Cats can't hurt you.

"Elizabeth Watson, look at me and listen." This time, I looked his way. "I know it's upsetting you, okay. I'm your brother, I know you." He paused before holding out his arms. "Come here." He said, and I walked over to him as he engulfed me in a hug. "But I also know Sherlock, and I knew him a while before you came along and let me tell you something-Sherlock has been so much better since you came around. He smiles more, he laughs more, and few people ever really get close to him, but you seem to be closer than any of us-Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, even myself, and especially Irene."He patted my back and pulled away, keeping his hands on my shoulders. "It doesn't take Sherlock Holmes to see how much he really does care for you." John smiled, and I remembered my conversation with Mrs. Hudson months ago when she said almost the exact same thing. "Never thought I'd be telling someone that." He laughed a little, and I joined him. "Now, I don't think that you have anything to worry about. Okay?" I nodded, causing him to grin and give my shoulders a little squeeze. I was about to turn back to my food, when we heard a thud coming from Sherlock's bedroom along with a series of shouts for John, who rushed back there and slung open the door. I only went into the living room and sat down in Sherlock's chair, my food in one hand, a book in the other, and I got settled.

John came back a few moments later, Holding his thumb towards the door, about to say something.

"Elizabeth!" Sherlock shouted.

"Sherlock wants you." John said as I got up from the chair, and walked to the back bedroom, setting my plate and book down on the kitchen counter on the way.

"Yeah?" I asked as soon as I opened the door. Sherlock was lying with his back facing me, his glass of water empty. "More water?" I asked, but instead of answering, he slung his arm in the air. I walked around the bed, seeing as I wasn't able to see him face. "What?" I asked.

"Come here" He mumbled. I sat on the bed, and he sighed. "No, come _here._" He said. "Lay here." He said, patting the bed beside him. I swung my legs onto the bed and scooted closer, pulling the blankets up over me. "Closer." He said, and I moved a few inches, then stopped. He sighed, obviously I didn't move as close as he wanted me too, so he moved himself so that I was pressed against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around me, his left arm going over my shoulders, his right worming it's way around my waist, while I held my hands to my chest.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?"I asked, but he was already asleep. I was going ot try to get up, but as soon as I budged, he tightened his grip around me, his brows furrowing r\together.

"No." He said quietly. "Stay, Elizabeth, please."

I sighed, and gave in, nuzzling into his shoulder.

What John had said to me earlier had really helped ease my feelings, and it wasn't that I didn't trust Sherlock, it's just that Irene seemed a lot better than me in so many ways, and there was a silly part of me thought that sometimes, maybe soon, Sherlock will think the same, and wouldn't want to be with me like I wanted to be with him.

I felt Sherlock place a soft kiss to the top of my head, and I smiled, falling asleep with the grin on my face.

* * *

I would have slept through the night, had Sherlock not shaken me, gently, whispering my name.  
"Hmm." I hummed.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"You called me in here, and asked me to lay down, then you wouldn't let me go." I explained, sleepily.

"Mmm. Good to know I was still myself." He said, and I could hear his smile.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I would never let you go." He said, jokingly, though I could sensed a bit of truth behind his words as well.

We remained silent in the dark room, only hearing our breathing.

"John's probably wondering what happened to you." Sherlock said after a while.

"Probably." I agreed. "That or he thinks something else happened." Sherlock laughed.

"So immature." He said. "Just because two people t\who love each other are in the same bed, doesn't mean that they-" He paused, knowing that I hated the word. "-did the thing." He said.

"I agree with you completely, but sadly, the world doesn't in most cases."

"How much do you want to bet he went to Sarah's?" Sherlock asked. I smiled.

"20 says he didn't."

"You're on. Let's go check, shall we?" I got up from the bed, with him following behind, and we walked into the living room.

"No sign of life, Captain." I said

John's keys and cell phone were gone, which he usually left if he went to Mrs. Hudsons. I remember one night, not being able to sleep, I came into the living room, where Sherlock was still awake, and we filled John's photo album with pictures, setting the silliest one- one where Sherlock was crossing his eyes and was sticking out my tongue, as his screensaver. He hasn't changed it.

Sherlock was standing in the kitchen, smirking, holding out his hand, and I put the money in it, which he then placed in his dressing gown pocket. It was only then that I noticed t\something on my hand.

"Oh." I said, pulling the ring off of my finger and handing it back to him. "Here. You can have this back" I said, and he took hit, looking at it thoughtfully.

"You know, you can keep it, if you want it." He said.

"Sherlock Holmes, are you proposing?" I asked jokingly.

"Yes." he said, dead serious. "Yes, Elizabeth, I am." He began to smile, letting out the breath of a laugh, before letting his smile fade. "I-I know we haven't really known each other as long as normal couples do when they get engaged, but we're not exactly normal, are we?" He laughed, nervously, and I couldn't help but crack a smile. "but during this time I have done something I never thought I would do- I fell in love. NOt only did I fall in love, but I fell in love with someone who I don't come close to deserving. Elizabeth, I am a rude, condescending, ignorant, self-centered, narcissistic a-hole, while you are a humble, kind, gentle, generous, honest, selfless, and intelligent person. How you have been able to stand being in a relationship with me is beyond me.

"I don't know much about love, or relationships in general, but I do know that I love you, and I know that I don't say it often, and please know that just because I don't say it doesn't mean I don't. Elizabeth, you bring out this other side of me-a warmer, happie, human side of me, and I know everyone else sees it too!

"Elizabeth, I love you honestly I do, and if there is someone I want to spend the rest of my life with, it's you, without a doubt, so please, Elizabeth Watson, will you marry me?"

I felt like I couldn't breath, and I knew my eyes were filled with tears. Every worry I had about Irene, vanishing into thin air.

I only nodded and whispered a small 'yes' before he slipped the ring back onto my finger, and placed a soft kiss to my lips, and I felt his smile.

When we pulled away, Sherlock put his forehead on mine, both of us still grinning.

"Come on. Lets go to bed." He said, taking my hands as we walked back to the bedroom, and as soon as we were in bed, I laid my head on his chest, listening to his breathing before I fell into a deep, much needed sleep.

**Woah. Okay.**

**So Sherlock and Elizabeth are engaged now, and Irene's gone for the moment, but what happens when She comes back? Hmm...**

**So what did you guys think of Elizabeth in this chapter? We kind of got to see her sarcastic, kind of rude side here, and I liked writing it a lot actually.**

_**OMG, I absolutely loved it. Thank you for lotr scene as well. I know that Irene is going try to make Elizabeth jealous, I was wondering to be a fair if you couldn't put in a scene in about Sherlock getting jealous too?**_

**~wolviegurl**

**OH! That would be really cool! I cold definitely put a scene in there somewhere, and I know exactly where ;) It will take some time, but Sherlock will have some jealous moments. Promise.**

**And Irene definitely isn't finished yet!**

**I'm glad you loved it, and thank **_**you**_ **for the idea for the lotr scene! I would have never thought of it otherwise!**

_**Belladonna Took:I LOVE THIS STORY SO MUCH! You are a truly talented writer and seem like a nice person from your A/Ns! I love how you've incorporated Elizabeth into the story, and I ship Elizalock/whatever the ship name is SO MUCH. Also, the chapter where you talked about scoliosis (forgotten which exact one it was) was actually basically the first time is heard of it, but I just found this fan fiction yesterday (June 29th) otherwise I would've worn green :3**_

_**I need to rewatch LoTR, I watched it a year or so ago and got bored, but this has inspired me go rewatch them. Maybe I shall be like Elizabeth (who I usually imagine with long wavy dark ginger-red hair and emerald eyes, I'm not entirely sure why XD) and Sherlock and go on a filmathon :D**_

_**minus Sherlock and Elizabeth.. *sob***_

_**And I like your sign-off, too XD Eagerly awaiting the next chapter!**_

_**(sorry for the length, caps and the hyperness, I really love this story XD)**_

_**-Belladonna Took**_

**Squee! Another new reviewer! I am ecstatic that you are loving my story, and thank you for the compliment, lovely!**

**I quite like Elizalock. It's got a bit of a ring to it, don't you think?**

**Funny story, actually with the Hobbit &amp; LoTR-I hated them at first. My grandfather had bought me the books, and I wasn't interested in the in the slightest, and I read the first chapter or so of the Hobbit, and tried LoTR, and got bored too, but one day, several months down the road, my grandfather and I were talking and he mentioned a HObbit marathon that was going to come on and he was going to record for us to watch, and I'm one of those people, if I can, I would like to read the book before I watch the movie, so I picked it up and started reading The hobbit again, and at first I still didn't like it, but the more I read, the more I got into it, and towards the end of the book I was locking myself in my room to read i, and I have a feeling it with be the same with the lotr books, but I'm turning 16 in August, and I'm planning on having a hobbit/lotr's movie marathon, and I can't wait (22 hours and 30 minutes!), so I have to read it before then, but I'm super excited about it!**

**That is really interesting the way you imagine Elizabeth. I never imagined her like that, even when I was planning parts of this, so that's really cool!**

**And you don't have to apologize for the length, caps, and hyperness! And I'm glad you're enjoying the story as much as you are! Thank you for the amazing review!**

_**I'm so looking forward to the next chapter and how Irene and Elizabeth will react to each other. I'm also glad that Molly and Elizabeth are getting along well, they don't really seem like the jealous type.**_

_**I read Night by Elie Weisel a few years back. I liked it very much, and I'm planning on soon watching The Boy in the Striped Pajamas.**_

**~GraySnowie**

**A lot of fanfics (And I know I've said this before, but I'll say it again, because somehow, it just irks me.), but they make Molly angry and jealous, and the completely opposite of Molly Hooper, and if you think that, that's fine, but I don't think that's how she would react at all.**

**The boy in the Striped Pajamas is a really good movie, a sad movie, but a good movie, and I would recommend it to anyone who likes World War II or The Holocaust (not like it as in, you know, supported it and what not, but likes learning about it), and is just up for a good tear jerker. **

**I think those are all of the reviews. I don't have anything else to say, other than thank you guys, and I'll see ya soon.**

_**May I always live to serve you and your crown.**_

_**~Eruaphadriel **_


	21. Chapter 21

**So sorry this is so late, but I hate writing at my dads, because the internet is so slow, and if I plan to email the chapter to myself, I end up forgetting to email it to myself, which is so annoying, but it's the sad, sad truth, so instead of writing, I kind of planned this chapter out a little.**

**The next chapter will be a little late as well, because Wednesday I am going to Chicago with my friend since 5th grade and her family, so yay! Also, I went to the doctor today, but the X-ray machine was down, but they went ahead and did some blood work to check for anemia, diabetes, and something for my thyroid. Wee…**

**I bawled like a baby, because I'm terrified of needles, and it took at least three to five minutes for them to get me calmed down and to take my blood. Luckily, my mom's friend was working, and she did it, and gave me Frozen stickers, and Avengers stickers, which made me feel a thousand times better.**

**Anyway, I'll stop talking (well, typing, rather)**

**Here you go!**

When I woke up the next morning, I forgot where I was, and it sent me into a slight panic, until I rolled over and was met with a head of black curls, and I smiled, my left thumb grazing over my ring.

I crawled out of bed quietly, and walked into the living room, finding John, sitting on his laptop, drinking a cup of tea. He didn't seem to notice me, and I don't know what he would do if he saw me coming from Sherlock's room, so I went through the kitchen door leading to the stairs, only to come back through the front door without being noticed.

"Morning." I said cheerfully. John looked at me and smiled.

"Morning. Sleep well?" he asked, and I nodded. "Good."

"What about you?" I asked, as I walked into the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee.

"Yeah, I slept...fine."He said, and I turned back to him, staring at him while I poured my coffee.

"You don't sound fine." I said, walking to the table where he sat, sitting across from him, moving letters and documents out of my way. "What's up?" I asked.

"Oh, it's nothing. I'm sure it will blow over soon."

"Tell me." I demanded. I wasn't a scary person, I knew that. I was as terrifying as a newborn puppy, but my demand seemed to get to him somehow, and he gave in.

"Sarah and I got into a bit of a disagreement."  
"Uh oh." I said. "Are you guys okay?"

"Ye-" He began, but then shook his head. "No, not really."

"You split up?"

"Yeah." he put his hand up. "But, like I said, we fixed it last time, I'm sure we can fix it again, it will just take a little time." he assured me. I nodded, hoping they would.

"I hope so. I like Sarah." I said, taking a sip of my coffee, and pulling my laptop in front of me. "I'm just worried, if you guys are done for good, what's going to happen to mine and Sarah's relationship. We're good friends." I worried out loud. John sighed.

"Well just because we've split up, doesn't mean you guys have to."

"You make it sound like we were in a relationship, too, Sarah and I." I laughed. He wasn't amused.

"You know what I meant. We split on somewhat good terms." he said, easing my nerves a little.

I opened my e-mail, and found hundreds of new messages, most of them from college, and some from Harry and mom, which I answered quickly.

"Oh, and by the way," John began. "I saw you sneak from the kitchen." he said, glancing at me over the laptops, a small, smug smile playing on his lips. My eyes widened a little, and he put his hands up. "I'm not going to say anything, I could say a lot, but I wont."

"Thank you." I said, bringing a hand up to my forehead, resting my head in my palm for a moment, as I read through Harry's extremely long email about the group she had been going to for her drinking, saying she was going to sober up. I was ecstatic that my sister was trying. I know it's not easy, so I sent her a quick little email, giving her my support and love, and asking her to come visit sometimes, adding a 'pretty, pretty please with a cherry on top' (which got her every time).

"You probably should give that back to Sherlock, that ring." John said. I looked at him quickly, before realizing he was talking about the ring, and remembering he didn't know.

"Oh, right. I'll do that when he wakes up." I promised him, not knowing if Sherlock wanted him to know just yet. I, of course, had no problem with him knowing, but I knew he would think it was too early, and, to some, it may be, but I was happy, and Sherlock seems to be as well.

Mrs. Hudson walked in, with a bag of, what I guessed was food, and made her way to the kitchen, saying her good mornings as she went. I felt like jumping out of my seat, I was so happy. She hadn't made breakfast for us in a long time.

She was in the middle of cooking breakfast, and i was almost finished writing my end of term paper when Sherlock woke up and trudged from the kitchen, into the living room, plopping down in his chair, as he usually did.

"Good morning." I said, glancing from my work as he turned his head and sent me a smile. John had left and gone outside to call Sarah and ask if they could talk sometime today or tomorrow. I slammed my laptop closed as soon as I wrote the last word, and moved it from that table, to the coffee table, before picking up a handful of paper and sorting them out.

"Hey, Sherlock? could you help me?" I asked him, and he shot from his chair and got to work on the other side of the table.

"John still at Sarah's?" He asked.

"No, he got back early this morning. Him and Sarah split up." I explained.

"Oh." Sherlock said, surprised.

"Yeah. I thought they were in it for the long run, too." Sherlock scrunched his nose and shook his head.

"I didn't think so." he said.

"Really?" he shook his head.

"For the best though."  
"What? I thought you like Sarah." I said. Sherlock seemed to be a little excited about their split.

"She annoyed me." I laughed.

"You only met her once." I said.

"And she annoyed me."

"And watch it, that's one of my friends."

"Well, your friend annoyed me."

I laughed again. It was no secret he wasn't a fan of Sarah at all.

"Did you ever tell John?" I asked.

"I thought my opinion was quite clear when he brought her over the first, and last time." He explained, throwing a handful of papers in the trash after going through them.

"Oh, yeah. It was." I remembered.

We fell silent as we cleared the last corner of the table. Then, satisfied with our work, we sat down and waited for breakfast to finish.

I wiped my hands over my face. I was exhausted, though I had gotten enough sleep. I guessed it was stress with finals being so close and all.

"Have you told John?" Sherlock asked, nodding towards my hand. I shook my head.

"No, not yet. He's noticed it was still there, but he just thought I hadn't given it back to you yet."  
Sherlock only responded with a low hum, both of our eyes glancing towards Mrs. Hudson. Luckily we were talking low enough that she didn't hear us and continued on with her light singing, which drove Sherlock mad.

"When do you want to tell him?" he asked. I shrugged.

"I'm okay with whenever." he nodded, before his brows furrowed.

"I figured we'd wait. Not for too long, but just until we're sure we're ready to tell everyone." He said, slowly. I nodded.

"Fine with me." I smiled, as Mrs. Hudson's singing got louder, and Sherlock buried his head in his hands. I laughed.

"If she doesn't stop-" he cut off, not finishing his sentence. She wasn't singing a real song, I didn't think, just random notes, making her own, odd melody.

"She's composing." I joked as he groaned, shaking his head.

"No, that's not composing, that's murdering my ears." He corrected. I laughed, and she turned to us, a smile on her face.

"What's so funny?" She asked, laughing a little herself.

"Nothing, I'm just being silly."  
"Oh, thank God, she stopped." Sherlock whispered as I spoke, causing me to laugh a little harder.

"Oh, alright." She said, turning back to the stove, humming again, louder this time. I laid my head on the table, shaking with laughter and biting my lip so I wouldn't make a sound, knowing that Sherlock was _not_ happy in the slightest.

I calmed down and looked up at his scowl, and smiled.

"I think I'm going to pull a Van Gogh and get an ear cut off, what do you think?" He asked. "Or maybe both ears."

"I think you would look handsome." I said sarcastically.

"Do you think?"

"Yeah." I reached over the table, and covered his ears with my hands, trying to imagine him without them, and chuckled, shaking my head.

"No, no don't, not really, it was a lie." I said, quickly. He laughed as John walked in, and I took my hands away from Sherlock's face. He raised an eyebrow at us, but quickly lowered it.

"Everything good?" I asked. He shook his head.  
"Not really." He said. I stood so he could have his chair back, and I went to sit my Sherlock, sitting closer to the window.

"Sorry." I said as I sat down. "There are plenty of fish in the sea." I said, but he glared at me, both of the boys did.

"Really?" Sherlock asked, and I shrugged.

"I tried to help."

"That's not going to help."

"It might, you don't know." I argued, but I knew it probably wouldn't. I sent an apologetic smile to John, who returned it.

"Oh woah." I said as the plate was sat in my way. I wasn't expecting her to _serve_ us.

"We could have gotten up and got it ourself Mrs. H. No need to go through all the trouble." John told her while she walked to the kitchen. She waved a hand.

"No, no, it's fine." She smiled, and brought some more things to the table. A car pulled up in front of out flat, and I looked out of the window to see a black car and a familiar face emerge from it.

"It's your brother." I said to Sherlock, who made a noise of disgust.

"What does he want now?" He asked. Mrs. Hudson went down to let him in, and we continued eating, Sherlock, grabbing a newspaper, reading it. I looked at him, a brow raised.

"Maybe he'll leave me alone." He joked, and continued reading while I giggled.

"The photographs are safe." Sherlock said as Mycroft walked in.

"Well now he won't leave you alone. You spoke." I whispered, causing him to smile.

"Yes, in the hands of a fugitive sex worker." I wasn't aware she had gotten the photo's back.

"She's not interested in blackmail, she wants...protection for some reason. I take it you've stood down the police investigation into the shooting at her house?" Sherlock asked.

"How can we do anything while she has the photographs? Our hands are tied."

"She'd applaud your choice of words." I commented, earning a glare from Mycroft, and a smirk from the boys.

"You see how this works: that camera is her "Get out of jail free" card. You have to leave her alone, treat her like royalty."

"Though not the way she treats royalty." John said, and I almost spit out my milk. Luckily, I didn't though.

"Mmm, that would cause all kinds of trouble." I said. I was going to shove another forkful of eggs in my mouth when a female sigh filled the air, and it was rather...rude. Everyone looked to me, eyes wide. I glanced at them.

"It wasn't me." I said, putting my hands up.  
"What was that?" John asked.

"Text." Sherlock said, folding his newspaper.

"But what was that noise?" I asked as Sherlock rose to get his phone, checking the message.

"Did you know there were other people after her, too, Mycroft, before you sent Elizabeth, John, and I in there? CIA trained killers, at an excellent guess." Sherlock changed the subject.

"Yeah, thanks for that Mycroft." John said.

"It's a disgrace." Mrs. Hudson said, sternly, walking into the room with a plate for Sherlock, who hadn't gotten his food yet. "Sending you little brother into danger like that. Family is all we have in the end, Mycroft Holmes."

"Oh, shut up, Mrs. Hudson."

"Mycroft!" Sherlock boomed, while John let out a yell as well, and I stared at him, surprised.

"Apologise." he said to Mrs. Hudson after a while.

"Thank you." She said, stomping back to the kitchen.

"But do, in fact, shut up." Sherlock called after her, and I hit his shoulder lightly as his phone made the noise again.

"Ooh, It's a bit rude, that noise, isn't it?" Mrs. Hudson asked, walking back into the kitchen.

"There's nothing you can do, and nothing she will do, as far as I can see." Sherlock ignored her, continuing the conversation he was having with the eldest Holmes.

"I can put maximum surveillance on her." Mycroft suggested.

"Why bother. You can follow her on twitter. I believe her username is "TheWhipHand"." Sherlock joked.

"Yes. Most amusing." Mycroft said sarcastically as his phone began to ring in his pocket, and he took the phone call outside, excusing himself from the room.

"Why does you phone make that noise?" I asked as soon as Mycroft was gone.

"What noise."

I rolled my eyes. "The one it just made." I clarified, though I really didn't think I would need to.

"It's a text alert. It means I've got a text."

"Your texts don't usually make that noise." John butted in.

"Well, somebody must have gotten a hold of my phone and, as a joke, personalized their text alert noise."

"So everytime they text you…" I was cut off by Sherlock's phone, which rang exactly on cue.

"It would seem so." he mumbled.

"Could you turn that phone down a bit. At my time of life…" Mrs. Hudson trailed off,

"I'm wondering who could have gotten a hold of your phone because it would have been in your coat, wouldn't it?" John asked. Sherlock raised the newspaper so neither one of us could see his face.

"I'll leave you to your deductions." he said from behind the paper as John smiled.

"I'm not stupid, you know."

"Where do you get that idea?"

Mycroft came back into the room, and the conversation ended.

"Bond Air is go, that's decided. Check with the Coventry lot. Talk later." He said, ending his phone conversation as well. We all looked at him.

"What else does she have?" Sherlock asked Mycroft. "Irene Adler. The Americans wouldn't be interested in her for a couple of compromising photographs. There's more." he said, standing up. "Much more. Something big's coming, isn't it?" he asked, walking closer to his brother.

"Irene Adler is no longer any concern of yours. From now on you will stay out of this."

"Oh, will I?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, Sherlock, you will." Sherlock only shrugged, and turned away from him. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a long and arduous apology to make to a very old friend."

"Do give her my love." Sherlock picked up his violin and began playing "God Save the Queen" as Mycroft left and John and I smiled.

* * *

"Please, please, please!" I begged, holding my hands clasped in front of me, as if I was praying. Sherlock sighed.

"Why?" He asked.

"Because it's fun, and the flat would look so nice ,and we can even get a hat for your skull. he can be festive, too!" I tried to say something that would change his mind. I was wanted to decorate for Christmas, which was right around the corner. It was a bit of a tradition when I was younger to decorate together for Christmas and make Christmas cookies and cakes, and listen to Christmas music while we worked, and those were some of my fondest memories as a kid, and I always loved it when Dad or, later on, Mom would drag the tree down along with all of the Christmas CD's and cook books.

This being my first Christmas here at Baker Street, I wanted to make it special, and what better way to celebrate than decoration with my favorite (and only) brother, and my fiancee?  
John still doesn't know, though, that we are engaged, and we're not really sure how to tell him. I had take the ring off of my ring finger, and placed it on the right ring finger instead, so John wouldn't be too suspicious, and he had asked about the ring two or three times, asking if I had given it back to Sherlock, and saying that I really did need too. Sherlock finally intervened, saying that he gave it to me, seeing as he had no need for it, and I seemed to like it so much. His answer satisfied John, and he hasn't asked about it since.

"Maybe."

"A tree?" I asked.

"Possibly."

"Lights and garland?"

"As long as you don't add tinsel." He sighed.

"Will you come and help me pick stuff out?" I asked, not wanting to go alone, and seeing as he lived here too, he should have a say.

He was silent, thinking it over, before jumping from his chair.

"Why not." he said, grabbing his coat and scarf while I yanked mine from the arm of John's chair.

I practically ran to get a cab, and I tugged Sherlock along with me, as if I were a child going to DIsneyland, yanking their parent around with them.

We looked at thousands of different trees, before I found one I really liked. It was small. Small enough to fit in the flat, but couldn't find one that would be able to fit comfortably in the flat, without us having to move furniture around, and even then it would just be cluttered, so I moved on to lights and garland, picking up two or three boxes of each.

"Will we really need that much?" Sherlock asked.

"Never hurts to have a little extra." I told him. "'Better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it.'" I quoted. Sherlock sighed as we moved to the ornaments.

"Pick some out." I said, gesturing to the little boxes of clay statues and glass spheres.

He picked out a handful, and I did the same.

"What about John? Is he coming to pick some up?"

"No." I said. "He grew up and got a job, that loser. He doesn't deserve to have all of the fun with picking out the decorations." Sherlock laughed as we made our way to the check out, and then back to the flat.

I ran inside, carrying most of the bags, throwing them on the couch, and waiting for John to get home, meanwhile, pulling out old cookbooks my mom had given to me, and planning on attempting to make some cookies.

I came down the stairs with an armful of them, and Sherlock stared, wide eyed at me.

"I thought you couldn't cook." He said.

"I can't, but I'll try, and you can, so if I mess up you can fix it."

"Oh, no, that would be your doing. Just follow the instructions, you'll be fine. Those cookies Mrs. Hudson helped you make weren't bad at all." I rolled my eyes, before starting on the cookies.

Just as I put them in the oven, John came home, and I ran to grab him and show him the decorations we bought. He seemed just as excited as I was, and we started instantly, pulling Sherlock into the party, letting him help us, as we blasted Christmas music, and would every once in a while, catch a whiff of my cookies burning in the oven.

That was absolutely fantastic….

* * *

**Sorry that was kind of short, and there wasn't much of the episode…**

**Reviews:**

_**I just adore this story! Ahh! They're engaged! :) Yay!**_

_**~Megla**_

**Yay! I'm glad you are enjoying it!**

_**More pleaz**_

_**~SnowKi**_

**Here ya are darling! Hope you enjoy!**

_**Brilliant, Please continue soon**_

_**~ hummingbird23**_

**Thank you! Glad you like it, and thank you for reviewing!  
****-**

_**Wow. Just wow. Sherlock and Elizabeth engaged? I love it :)**_

_**I am amazed how well you incorporated Elizabeth into this. I loved the length too, an extra-long one to incorporate everything. I haven't had internet for a while, so I kind of binged in reading your fan fiction when I could access the new chapters...**_

_**I had to read the Boy in the Striped Pajamas, and watch the movie, for Social Studies in year 10. I loved it, and I loved how it showed the perspective of a child on something that could be deemed so dark. I love history too, so it was enjoyable for me as well.**_

_**I hope you are well, and I look forward to whenever you update again.**_

_**By my hand and seal,**_

_**\- Elyshia**_

**Hello, dear!**

**I thought I owed everyone an extra long chapter for not updating as long as I did, and there was so much information in that chapter, and it felt wrong to chop that in half. I'm glad you liked it (I was super worried about it, I loved writing it though!)**

**To be honest, I did **_**not**_ **plan for Sherlock and Elizabeth to get engaged. I just started writing, and ran with it, and saw the opportunity, and took it. **

**I love history as well, and am actually thinking about becoming a history teacher if being an author doesn't work out for me (though I'm sure I could probably find a way to somehow do both). I'm not as big of a fan of American History though as I am World History. I don't know why that is. Maybe because I love in America? And it has been drilled into my head since I began school? I don't know, but American history is kind of boring to me.**

**Anyway, I'm glad your internet is fixed. I seriously have no idea what I would do without it, and what I'm going to do on the six hour drive to Chicago. Last time I went, we took a charter bus, since it was a school trip, and we had WiFi on the bus,, so it wasn't bad (my battery was crap, though…), but I sadly won't have that luxury. I honestly don't know what I would do without internet.**

**Thanks for reviewing, and it's great to hear from you again!**

_**May I always live to serve you and your crown.**_

_**~Eruaphadriel**_


	22. Chapter 22

**Hello, again.**

**Sorry it had been so long since the last update. I had the whole chapter written, I promise I did, and I was working on the reviews, and I forgot to email it to myself before I went to my dads, so I'm going to rewrite it all again and hope it comes out okay.**

**I am also thinking about writing an original story, I don't know what about yet, but I have some ideas that I think could work, of course I will start that after my other one. SO many things go on in my head each day it's insane!**

**So, Chicago was great! I really liked it, but we left early because my friends stepmom did NOT like it at all! We are from Kentucky, so we are more used to small, slow paced towns, while Chicago is the exact opposite. She was not happy, and I could see where someone wouldn't like it, it was very fast paced and chaotic, two things I'm not a big fan of myself, but the trip wasn't all bad. We went to a museum, where they had an Egyptian exhibit (which made me melt!) and the aquarium, a boat ride, and some kind of fun house that they had, which my friend and I enjoyed (we refuse to act 16...)**

**Anywho, I also have some very exciting news!**

**In less than a month, I have a birthday! Usually on my birthday, if I am working on a story, I do some kind of contest, or some giant update, or something special for YOU guys! I'm like a Hobbit-on my birthday, I give!**

**So, you guys tell me what you guys want, a contest, or a huge update, 20 questions, or anything else, really, I am up for anything you guys want, and it shall be done (as long as it's not TOO wild...)**

Over the next few days, Sherlock had gotten more into Christmas. He had begun humming Christmas songs, bought more decorations for the flat, and had learned some songs on the violin.

He didn't have a case, so we spent the day lying around the flat, Sherlock reading a book, while I laid on the couch, my head in his lap, his spare hand twirling my hair, while I planned a small Christmas party.

"So, we'll invite Mrs. Hudson, obviously." I stated. "And Jeanette."

"Jeanette?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah, John's girlfriend?" I asked, attempting to jog his memory.

"I thought he was with...uh..."

"Anna?" I guessed.

"Yeah, her... I think."

"They broke up months ago." I reminded. "He's dating someone else now-Jeanette."

"Oh." Sherlock said, his eyebrows going up. "Okay. Her then. What about Gavin?" He asked.

"Who?"

"Gavin Lestrade? You go to lunch with him all the time."

"Oh. Greg."

"Greg?" He asked.

"Lestrade." I said, rolling my eyes. "His name is Greg, sweetie." I patted his chest.

"Oh."

"So we'll invite him, Mrs. Hudson, Jeanette, who else?" I thought for a moment. "Molly!" I exclaimed.

"Okay."

"You don't really care, do you?" I asked.

"I love you, darling." He said, teasingly, the corner of his mouth going up in a smile. I rolled my eyes, trying to be annoyed, but I couldn't, a smile forcing its way on my face as well.

I thought some more to myself, thinking about food and drinks, twirling my ring around my finger as I did so. I could feel Sherlock's eyes on me, but I ignored him.

"When are we going to tell him?" He asked.

"Tell who what?"

"Tell John we're engaged." He clarified.

"Oh." I said. "I...I don't know. I'm fine with whenever." I told him. "The sooner the better, though."

"I agree." He said, slamming the book closed, and putting it on the arm of the couch. "When he gets home?" I shrugged.

"I guess, if that's fine with you."

"Is it alright with you?"

"Of course."

"Alright then." He said, and we fell silent again.

"How are we going to tell him?"

He shrugged, but waved a hand. "He'll be delighted, I'm sure."

"Yeah, maybe." I agreed, as the front door shut and someone bounded up the stairs. I rose from Sherlock's lap, sitting up on the couch, scooting closer to my fiancee, as John entered the living room, smiling at both of us, grocery bags in his hands.

"Morning." He said, putting his bags in the kitchen, then coming back into view.

"Hey.' I said, a bit awkwardly, unsure of how this was going to go down. John smiled at us, before sitting in his chair, turning his head back to me.

"Is...is everything alright?" He asked.

"Why?"

"Because you two are acting...odd. Something's up." He stated. I looked to Sherlock.

"What makes you say that?" He asked.

"I don't know, but there's something wrong."  
"Nothing's wrong." Sherlock assured him.

"Okay." he said, turning his attention to a newspaper sitting on the floor beside him. I didn't move from my seat and neither did Sherlock.

"Okay, nope, I can't do this." John said after a few seconds. "What is going on? You're both just sitting there, Elizabeth hasn't taken her eyes off of me since I walked in and she's obviously nervous about something, and you never sit that still for that long without being in your mind palace." John paused. "is there something I need to know."

"Yes."

"Okay. What is it."

"We're engaged." Sherlock blurted. No preamble, nothing to ease him into it. Just ripping off the bandage.

"Okay, tha-Wait, what?!" He said, turning to us, jumping from his chair. I shrunk back a little, worried about his reaction. I couldn't tell if he was angry or excited.

"We're engaged." Sherlock repeated.

"Yes, I heard that, there was absolutely no need to repeat it." He said. "When did this happen?" John's question was directed towards me.

"A few weeks ago" I said quietly, hoping he wouldn't be upset. "We didn't know how to tell you, because I didn't know if you would be angry, but we promise, you are the first person we have told." I added quickly, hoping that it would help. I knew he would be upset with us for waiting so long to tell him, so I thought maybe reminding him that he's the first to know would maybe ease his mind a bit.

He only nodded.

"Okay." He said simply. We waited for him to say something else, but he didn't.

"Okay?" Sherlock said, leaning forward slightly.

"Okay." He repeated with a small smile.

"Oh my gosh, you two, stop flirting." I said, referencing The Fault in Our Stars. Sherlock rolled his eyes (I had forced him to watch it with me, and ended up crying into his shoulder) while John only furrowed his brows, confused. "Anyway," I said, moving on, not wanting to explain it to him. "You're completely okay with this?" I asked, wanting to make sure he wasn't upset in anyway.

"Yes. I mean, I wish you guys could have told me sooner, but…" he trailed off.

"Sorry."

"No, no, it's fine." he said, shaking his head. "Congratulations." He smiled. I smiled back at him.

"Thank you." I responded. He started to walk towards the kitchen. but I stopped him.

"Oh, do you have any suggestions for the little Christmas get together?" I asked.

"We're actually doing that?" he said, a bit of excitement in his voice.

"Yup!" I said.

"Well...not that I can think of right now, but if i think of anything I'll be sure to tell you." he promised. Sherlock rose from the couch and grabbed his violin, playing song I didn't recognize, while I grabbed my laptop, replying to emails, and working on homework.

* * *

"Lovely, Sherlock, that was lovely!" Mrs. Hudson complimented when Sherlock finished playing. He gave a small bow as Lestrade whistled. Mrs. Hudson began to laugh.

"I wish you could have worn the antlers." She said. Mrs. H had brought us all Christmas hats-small headbands with antlers on the top. Sherlock and John refused to wear theirs, but I sported mine proudly, giggling like a child when I put them on and turned my head, the bells jingling quietly. Sherlock hadn't missed the chance to tell me I looked like a dork. I just ignored him.

"Some things are best left to the imaginations, Mrs. Hudson." He said as Jeanette walked into the room with a plate of cakes, offering some to Sherlock.

"Oh, no thank you Sarah." he said, and John and I immediately ran to the rescue.

"No, no, no, he's not good with names." I told her quickly.

"No, no, no, no, no I can get this. Lets see, Sarah, then the one with the spots, then the one with the nose, and who was after the boring teacher?" He asked.

"Nobody." Jeanette said, looking more uncomfortable by the second.

"Jeanette!" he exclaimed. "Ah, see, process of elimination." He said, going to place his violin on the table, while John led Jeanette away. I sighed, sending her a small, apologetic smile, which she returned as I heard the door shut and someone came up the stairs.

Molly appeared in the doorway, two bags on her arm and a smile on her face.

"Hello, everyone." She greeted. "Elizabeth told me to just come on up." She smiled at me as everyone greeted her.

"Oh, everybody's saying hullo to each other. How wonderful!" Sherlock said sarcastically as John went to take her coat. I turned to Sherlock, who was opening John's laptop to John's blog.

"Holy Mary." I heard John exclaim, and when I turned back, Molly had shed her coats, and was wearing a black, tight fitting dress. I chuckled at John and Lestrade's reactions before turning back to Sherlock.

"John." Sherlock called, and John came to stand beside me. I knew this was going to have something to do with work, which wasn't something I wanted to think about right now, so I turned away from the two, and offered Molly a drink.

"Oh, yes, thank you." She said, as I walked to the kitchen with my glass, which had been emptied.

"How's The hip?" Molly asked rs. Hudson.

"It's atrocious, but thanks for asking."

"Well, I've seen worse, but then I do post-mortems." She said, attempting to make a joke, but when silence fell, she looked embarrassed. "Oh, God. Sorry."

"Don't make jokes, Molly." Sherlock said, not looking up from the laptop.

"No. Sorry." She apologized again, as I handed her a drink. "Thank you." She looked around me to Lestrade. "I wasn't expecting to see you here." She said. "I thought you were going to be in Dorset for Christmas."

"That's first thing in the morning." lestrade informed us. Me and the wife. We're back together, everything's sorted." He said.

"No, she's sleeping with the P.E. teacher." Sherlock announced.

"And John, Elizabeth, I hear you're off to your sisters, is that right?" SHe asked.

"Yup!" I said, excited to see my sister again.

"Sherlock was complaining…" She said to me, when Sherlock looked around and raised his eyebrows, though, she corrected herself. "...saying." I giggled a little.

"First time in years she's cleaned up her act. She's off the booze."

"Nope."  
"Sherlock, shut up." John warned.

"I see you've got a new boyfriend, Molly, and you're serious about him. " Sherlock said.

"What?"  
"In fact, you're seeing him this very night and giving him a gift."

"Take a day off. " I begged, handing a glass to him. "Have a drink."  
"Oh, come on. Surely you've all seen the present at the top of the bag – perfectly wrapped with a bow. All the others are slapdash at best." He stood and began walking towards Molly.

"t's for someone special, then." He picked the grift up from the bag. "The shade of red echoes her lipstick – either an unconscious association or one that she's deliberately trying to encourage. Either way, Miss Hooper has lurrrve on her mind. The fact that she's serious about him is clear from the fact she's giving him a gift at all." I looked at Molly who was squirming uncomfortably. "That would suggest long-term hopes, however forlorn; and that she's seeing him tonight is evident from her make-up and what she's wearing." He turned and smiled smugly at John and Jeanette, and then at me, which I only sent him a glare that he ignored. "Obviously trying to compensate for the size of her mouth and breasts ... " He trailed off, when he saw the card on the box.

"You always say such horrible things. Every time. Always. _Always." _Molly said. Sherlock turned around, and caught me eye.

"Fix. This." I mouthed to him. "Now."

He turned back around to her.

"I am sorry. Forgive me." He said. SHe looked up at him in surprise. "Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper." He said, before bending down and kissing her on the cheek. not exactly what I meant by "Fix this", but if it worked, I didn't really mind. It was just a simple, innocent, friendly kiss on the cheek.

As soon as he stood to his full height again, his phone rung-the text alert. Molly looked around the room, started.

"Oh, no, that wasn't-I didn-" Sherlock put a hand up.

"No, it was me."

"My God, really?!" Lestrade said as if it was _really_ Sherlock. Poor Lestrade, how did he get his job at Scotland Yard…

"My phone." He clarified, pulling it from his coat pocket.

"Fifty-seven." John said.

"What?"

"Fifty-seven of those texts. The ones I've heard."

"Thrilling that you've been counting." He said, walking over to the mantle piece and taking a box out from the garland.

Everyone looked towards me, as if I was the one who put it there, but I didn't. The gift I bought him was with all of the other gifts-on the couch, wrapped in silver, not red, and tied with red bow, not with black rope. I shook my head, and looked to John, the only other person who would be able to put it there, but he shook his head as well.

"'Scuse me." Sherlock said, walking back to his room.

"What's up, Sherlock?" I asked as he passed.

"I said excuse me."

"Do you ever reply?" I called to him as he walked into his room.

After a minute or two, and after apologizing to everyone, I walked back to Sherlock's room.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yes." He said, and went to shut the door, but I put my foot out so it didn't shut. Sherlock looked at me, confused.

"What's going on?" I asked, wanting to know. "Please tell me." I said quietly.

Sherlock sighed and nodded. I walked into the room, shutting the door behind me.

"Irene Adler is dead."

"Oh." No, I didn't like her, but that didn't mean I wanted her dead. It was horrible. "How do you know?"

"She sent me this." He held up her camera phone. He didn't explain from there. He remained silent.

"I'm sorry." I said, finally.

"For?" He asked, but I only shrugged. "It's not like you liked her anyway."

"I will admit I wasn't a fan."

"Because you were worried." He stated. "You were worried that I might leave you for her-that I liked her more than I liked you. Right?" I looked down. "Elizabeth, that it not possible." He said, and I looked up at him. He was standing directly in front of me now, inches away from me.

"I'm sorry." I said again. His brows came together. "I never meant to doubt-"

"I know."

"You know?" I asked as he smiled a little.

"Apparently, when you're stressed, you talk in your sleep about the thing you're stressed about." He said, his smile growing wider.

"Oh." I said, pursing my lips, and looking back towards the ground as he chuckled.  
"It's actually kind of...adorable, to be honest." He assured me.

"Hmm. Well, I'll try to be stressed more often." I joked.

"Oh, no ,don't do that. Stress leads to high blood pressure, suppresses the immune system, increases the risk of a heart attack or stroke, contributes to infertility, speeds up the aging process, and long-term stress can cause you to become vulnerable to mental and emotional problems." He said, quickly and seriously. I smiled.

"I was kidding, but thank you for that information. I'll start planning a vacation." I said, and he rolled his eyes while I laughed.

"Is everyone still here?" He asked. I shook my head.

"Molly left after getting a phone call, Lestrade left after her, probably to sort things out with his wife before they leave, if they leave, Mrs. H's hip was bothering her pretty bad, so John helped her downstairs to get some rest. Jeanette's still here though." He only nodded, before grabbing his coat from the bed.

"Mycroft's going to meet me at the morgue. Would you like to come?" He offered, but I shook my head, thinking maybe this is something he wanted to do alone. He did seem pretty upset about it when he told me.

"No, I think I'll stay here, thank you, though."

"Alright." He said, grabbing his scarf and wrapping it around his neck. He placed a quick kiss to my forehead, before walking out of the door.

* * *

**So this is kind of short, and I'm sorry for the wait, again. I have some of the next chapter written already, so hopefully it won't be too long of a wait.**

**Reviews:  
-**

**So glad to hear that they are engaged. It would be nice to see Sherlock and Elizabeth have some major arguments soon over Irene, because lately everything's been smooth sailing for them.**

**I look forward to the Christmas chapter. I'm curious to see what you'll be doing with Molly in that scene.**

**And I just took a US History online class this summer. I agree, American history is insanely boring. I like World History much better.**

**~GraySnowie**

**-  
I have some things that I am thinking about for Sherlock and Elizabeth, especially for when Irene does decide to return, which will be very soon.**

**I didn't know what I was going to do with Molly in this scene, so I decided to leave that bit as it was, and let everything play out from there, maybe use it later on….maaaybe…**

**I strongly dislike American history. My stepdad loves it, though, and always quizzes me, saying that I should know all of this since I love history so much, but, like you said, it is insanely boring. I've heard the same things over and over again in every American History class I've taken, and it's gotten so boring and repetitive, that I've lost all interest, and completely zone out when the subject comes up. I was going to have to take an American History course this year, but I transferred schools, and now I don't think it will be a requirement, thank goodness.**

**Thank you for reviewing, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!**

**This was brilliant. I wonder what John's reaction will be to finding out his sister and best friend are engaged? I know what you mean when you say you never planned for the engagement, it's happened to me too, where you see an opportunity to write something that wasn't planned and you just take it. I also understand completely about disliking history from your own country, because I'm the same. Anyways, I want to limit my ranting, but I am really looking forward to more. I hope your trip goes okay. :)**

**By my hand and seal,**

**\- Elyshia**

**John' reaction to their engagement was extremely difficult to write, because there are so many ways he could have reacted, and so many ways he could have found out, and I felt like with everything that I wrote before actually deciding on what I wanted didn't quite...fit. It seemed like he was too out of character, or Sherlock and Elizabeth were too out of character, and I could find a scenario I really liked, and I'm still not sure about this one, but it wasn't one that made me cringe as much, so I guess that's good.**

**And our trip did go okay, other than her stepmom not liking it one bit. I love Chicago, and I could see myself living there one day, which is something I think my family isn't too happy about, especially my mom (you should have sen her reaction when I said I wanted to live in London…) but I just can't see myself living in Kentucky, or where we live in Kentucky, at least right now. Maybe sometime in the future I will change my mind, but as of right now, a big city is kind of where I want to be.**

**Thank you so much for the review!**

**AHHH ELIZALOCK GOT ENGAGED OH MY GOD OH MY GOD - and I agree, Elizalock has a kinda nice ring to it XD**

**Can't wait to see John's reaction XDD omg omg you have no idea how happy this fanfiction makes me I didn't check on it for like two weeks - and then I remembered and got so excited! :D And enjoy your 22 hour and 30 minute long filmathon/marathon! And I saw the Hobbit films before picking up the book at my local library and I quite enjoyed it! And and and so many ands**

**Anyway, I'm interested to how the whole Irene thing will go - what with Sherlock and Elizabeth being ENGAGED. (*internally shrieks*) I was so excited when I read they were engaged! Sherlock is very good at proposing, despite being.. um, slightly lacking in the social skills department - I would have died if someone proposed to me like that (well, let's be real, if Sherlock/Benedict were proposing to me I'd probably die anyway). I'm dreading yet dying of excitement for Reichenbach Fall. I haven't actually seen the episode, but from what I've read and seen I pretty much knows everything that happens in it, but I really want to lol XD OK I'm just rambling now.. My reviews will probably be pretty long, sorry xD**

**Again, eagerly expecting the next chapter and I did like Elizabeth in this chapter, but she has no need to be worried - Sherlock very clearly loves Elizabeth! OK, I'll stop rambling now.. (Sherlock as he walks out of the Palace voice) Laters!**

**-Belladonna Took**

**Sorry, forgot to mention: hope you enjoy/enjoyed Chicago!**

**-Belladonna Took**

**I am so happy that my fanfiction makes you so happy! And I am sure that I will thoroughly enjoy it!**

**Oh, and I would die too if Sherlock/Benedict proposed! It would be a dream come true!**

**I don't know what's going to go down in Reichenbach Fall. I am now between two options, and I think I like one options, something I don't know if anyone's done before, but I'm still not sure about.**

**Reading about Reichenbach Fall and then watching the Reichenbach Fall are totally different. I started on season 3 since it was the only season my grandmother had, and then skipped back to season 1, but waited on season 2 1) because I had no way to watch it and 2)because I knew what was going to happen, and was NOT prepared for it. I still wasn't when I watched it, but….whatever.**

**There's a site called Daily Motion. If you search for Jason L (make sure you are searching for people or profiles, I'm not sure what they call them there) and go to his playlists, you will have to dig a little bit, but he has all three seasons uploaded. No crappy quality, you don't have to pay anything to watch it, you don't have to sign up or sign in (unless you just really really want to, but i never have). That's how i finally got to watch season 2, if you have no other way of watching it. **

**And don't worry about long reviews! I love long reviews! I don't mind them a bit!**

**And, as I have said before, I did enjoy Chicago a lot, thanks! And thank you for reviewing!**

**(Chapter 18)**

**Great chapter! Sorry I haven't reviewed lately, I have been busy with school. I loved how the meeting with Moriarty played out and having Sherlock and Elizabeth have a Lord of the Rings marathon was great too. I'm kind of surprised that I was one of the first to guess that your name was elvish (which is really cool by the way :]). I also love how Sherlock and Elizabeth's relationship has been growing steadily and that you haven't changed Sherlock to much because he's in a relationship. So many fanfic relationships move way to quickly and the authors tend to change the character from the original story too much, but you have managed to avoid doing either which can be difficult. I look forward to reading the rest of your story! :)**

**(Chapter20)**

**Another amazing chapter and a big surprise too! I loved this chapter very much and the fact that Sherlock actually proposed to Elizabeth made it even better. I can't wait to see how this will affect the story line and how John will react to this along with Moriarty and Mycroft. Congratulations on yet another brilliant chapter! :)**

**(Chapter 21)**

**I can't usually pick out a favorite line from anything but I found one in this chapter. "'He grew up and got a job, the loser...'". That was brilliant! I love the way the story is going and can't wait for the next update! Good luck with your writing! :)**

**~Aranel Silvertongue **

**Hello! I completely understand being busy with school. It boggs me down too a lot and takes a huge amount of my time. I'm glad you loved the meeting with moriarty, and the Lord of the Rings marathon. I wanted to give them a little break, and someone mentioned something about it, since I had so many references in one of the chapters, so I decided, why not? **

**I have been trying really hard not to rush their relationship, and not to change Sherlock too much, which has been a real struggle, and I've had to rewrite so many scenes because he was just way too out of character, and I always worry about Sherlock not being Sherlock (if that made sense at all), so your review definitely boosted my confidence in this story. Thank you so much!**

**I had thought about John's reaction to their engagement, and maybe a little about Moriarty's, but not Mycroft's...that's interesting...I have no clue how he would react, but I would love to find out!  
And, to be honest, I totally forgot about that line! When I was skimming through the reviews in my email while waiting for the rest of them to load, I thought you were referencing another story, I totally forgot about writing it, and it honestly made me laugh a little. Then I reread your review, and you said you found it in the chapter, and I immediately went to fanfiction and dug through the chapter to find it. I forgot about it completely, and thank you for reminding me about that, and I'm glad that you found a favorite line in my story. Makes me feel good!  
Thank you so, so, so much for reviewing as much as you do! It means a lot! And good luck with school! I know it can be rough sometimes.**

**Something that I do (and I'm just suggesting, you don't have to do this) but if I have a lot of work to do, and I get too stressed, I like to meditate, or just sit and listen to classical music, or find something funny on the internet (Tumblr is usually extremely funny!) I also listen to classical music while I work on schoolwork as well. I know there are hundreds of videos that are hours long with all kinds of pieces that are beautiful, and great for studying.**

**And these are probably things anyone could tell you, but I thought I would go ahead and suggest them, and like I said, they are just suggestions, just some things that I do when I get stressed, or have to study.**

**Hope everything goes well!  
-**

**Also! Remember to please suggest things for my birthday (August 12), whether it be a huge update, or a contest, or something like 20 questions. I am honestly up for anything, as long as it's not too crazy!**

_**May I always live to serve you and your crown.**_

_**~Eruaphadriel**_


	23. Chapter 23

'**Ello ladies and gents!  
...if there are any gents that read this…**

**How are you all?**

**I got a PM just the other day from the wonderful GraySnowie. We had messaged each other before about the differences between a psychopath and a sociopath, and GraySnowie found a video that explains the difference perfectly. It is made by Dnews, and I recommend it to everyone. **

**tube watch?v=Wv91IVpLyBk**

**This is the link, and if that doesn't work, then you can search Psychopath vs. Sociopath: What's the Difference? by dnews.**

**Thank you so much GraySnowie for sending this to me! I loved it!**

**Also, I am super duper excited because I am painting my room! I chose a very light green-blue color, Woodlawn Valley Haze is the name of it (if you google it, it will show up), and a gray, Rugged Suede (which you can also google). I'm only painting one wall gray, and the rest will be the woodlawn valley haze, and I am so excited, because for years my walls have been a bright, lime green, and a bright pink, and I've grown up, so we decided it was time to change it. Thing is, though, I have to attempt to clean this mess I call a room…..which I am working on now, and I have no idea what to do with all of this crap!**

****John, Jeanette, and I were all waiting for Sherlock to get back. I only told John that he was going to the morgue, but said nothing else, telling him that Sherlock didn't tell me anything else, which was obviously a lie, but I didn't know if Sherlock wanted John to know or not.

I was sitting in Sherlock's chair, while John and Jeanette stayed on the couch. Jeanette had remained quiet for most of the time, only speaking when spoken to. I had gone over and tried t talk to her, asking her questions about herself, what she liked, or disliked, where she was from, and she would answer, and she seemed to open up a little.

I was trying to read, but I couldn't concentrate, so I picked up another book, prying one from the shelf, waving dust away, before settling down in the chair again, and trying to read, but I still wasn't able to focus. I slammed the book shut, and put it on the floor in front of me, rubbing my eyes.

"You alright?" John asked.

"Yeah. Can't concentrate." I said. He only hummed in response as his phone rang. He answered it, moving to the window, talking to, who I guessed was Mycroft. I didn't listen to their conversation. Instead, I turned my attention to Jeanette.

"I'm going to get a snack. Do you want anything?" I asked, but she shook her head.

"Thank you, though."

I walked to the kitchen, pouring a glass of milk, and filling a plate with chocolate chip cookies. I had made them before the tiny party. Luckily, there were still plenty of them left to last me a few days.

"Elizabeth?" John asked, and I turned to him, picking the plate up from the counter and walking back to the living room.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Did you find anything in the bedroom?"

I shook my head. "It was clean." I answered, and John sighed.

"Alright. He'll be here in about ten minutes." He informed me./ "Mycroft said he just left."

I nodded, before sitting down.

"I have plans." I overheard John say. "M-" He began, but was cut off. He lowered the phone to his side, sighed, and walked over to Jeanette. I made myself comfortable, pulling one of the end tables closer to me, to put my cookies and milk on, while sittin sideways in the chair, swinging my legs over the armrest, the fire warming my feet, while I stayed sitting up, not leaning back on the armrest, taking a blanket and putting it on the lower half of my body before putting the plate of cookies in my lap.

"I'll call you." I heard John call, and a very angry 'No!" came back from the stairs.

"Alright." I heard him sigh, and I craned my neck to look at him. I swung my arm out, the plate of cookies in my hand, offering some to him. He smiled and took a few, before going to the couch.

"That wasn't very good, was it?" I asked, nodding towards the door,, but I already knew the answer when he nodded as well, saying nothing else.

A few minutes later, I decided to curl up in Sherlock's chair instead of going to bed like I really wanted to, moving the empty plate to the table, and curling up into a ball, using the armrest as a pillow, and I closed my eyes.

I was almost asleep, when I heard someone coming up the stairs, before stopping in the doorway.

"Hey." I heard John say. "Are you okay?"

I kept my eyes closed, but I guessed it was Sherlock, since John said he would be home soon, and really, there was no one else it could be besides Mrs. Hudson, but I knew she was probably already asleep.

I heard footsteps again, and this time I opened my eyes, watching as Sherlock walked into the kitchen, going down the hallway to his room.

"Hope you didn't mess up my sock index this time." He walked into his room, and shut the door. As soon as he heard the door slam, John stretched.

"Well, I think I'm going to hit the hay." he said, looking at me. "You look down right exhausted."

I laughed a little . "Thanks." I said, sarcastically.

"No, I just meant- you should probably do the same." He cuts his eyes to the door, and I knew what he meant-to make sure he was really okay.

"I think I'll stay here, you know, give him some space." I told him. He nodded.

"Alright." He turned around, and headed up the stairs, turning the lights off as he went so the living room was almost dark, the only light coming from the street lamps outside. "Goodnight." He called, and I heard the door shut, and I closed my eyes, this time, falling asleep instantly.

* * *

I heard someone walking around the kitchen, and I opened my eyes instantly to find Sherlock walking slowly into the living room.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"About three o'clock."

"Oh." I said surprised I had slept in the same position for so long, without waking up and moving, or rolling out onto the floor and injuring myself, which could have happened.

"You don't look comfortable." He stated. I shrugged a shoulder. "It's not so bad." I said sitting up, and that's when I got a sharp pain in my neck My hand flew up to it, and I winced. "Nevermind. It hurts." I said, attempting to stand up, but since I had just woken up, I was not graceful...at all, and I ended up almost falling back into the chair if Sherlock hadn't grabbed my arm just in time.

"Thank you." I said, regaining my balance.

"Mhmm." He answered, grabbing my blanket from the chair, and wrapping it around my shoulders. "Come on." He said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as well, as we walked to the bedroom...well, he walked. I sort of stumbled and shuffled my feet the whole way there, like a zombie.

"What were you doing?" I asked, wondering why he was up in the first place.

"I was going to get my violin and bring it in here." He said as we entered his room. "I couldn't sleep."

"Oh." I said, crawling into bed, the blanket still wrapped around my shoulders,. I got in a comfortable position, before another set of blankets were put on top of me be Sherlock, who put them all up to my chin. "It's supposed to be colder tonight. Thought you might need some extra blankets since you tend to get cold easily."He said, and I noticed a couple of extra blankets had been pile on top of the bed comforter. I smiled and thanked him. He grinned back, saying goodnight, before walking into the living room. A few minutes later, I heard him playing, and I smiled a little at the tune- Clair de Lune, the first song I heard him play, and my favorite classical piece.

* * *

It was Christmas morning, and I woke up, running to the living room. I had kept my gifts for everyone in John's closet I was going to go ahead and give them out last night, but then, well, all of that happened and I never got the chance.

John and Sherlock were already in the living room eating breakfast, and Mrs. Hudson, who was dressed in a red and green dress for the occasion, handed a box out to me, which I took from her, smiling.

"What's this?" I asked. The box was wrapped in green and silver paper, with a small bow on the top. She laughed a little.

"It's Christmas! That is your gift from me." She said. My smile widened.

"Thank you." I said, going to the table and sitting down to eat.

"Oh!" I said, jumping from my chair, and running to John's room, into the closet to get everyone's gifts.

I brought them all down, having to crane my neck to see. John's was the largest of them all, but the box was thinner than the rest.

"Here we are." I said, setting the gifts on the coffee table.

I sat on the couch beside Sherlock, who had been grumbling as I came down the stairs, about exchanging gifts. John, though, seemed to be excited, wearing a Christmas sweater and he hadn't stopped smiling. He had pulled up a chair from the dining room table for him and Mrs. Hudson.

"Who first?" John asked.

"Mrs. H." I said, handing her my gift. "Since she cooks us breakfast, and cleans, even though, she's not our housekeeper." I said, and she laughed while tearing the wrapper off of the gift.

She grinned as she pulled the bracelet from the box. It was a small, expandable wire bracelet with a charm, the letter _M_ written on it for her first name. The bracelet also had a few other small charms on it as well, each one representing something she loved and enjoyed to do, or something she had talked about in the last few months.

"I didn't know what to get you, and I knew you liked jewlery.' I explained.

"I love it." She said, putting it on her wrist. "Thank you."

John was next, handing her his gift. He had gotten her a Frozen yogurt and ice cream maker, while Sherlock bought her some books, ones that she had talked about reading, but could never find. I never knew he was paying attention.

Next was John, who was sighing and rolling his eyes by the time he was finished opening his gifts, while the rest of us laughed, not at him, but at what we had gotten him.

Mrs. Hudson had gotten him a new jumper. Sherlock got him the same exact jumper, along with two or three other sweaters, and some jam. A few jars of it, actually, while I handed him two more jumpers, and a few movies.

"So, you're set on jumpers and jam until next Christmas, yeah?" I asked, nodding to the jars at his feet. He sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"Six jumpers, two that are the same, and five jars of jam. I think I'll be okay." he said.

"Best Christmas ever, right?"  
"You bet!" he said, before thanking us sincerely.

"We wanted to make sure you liked what you got, and what do you like more than jumpers and jam?"

"Absolutely nothing." He joked, as I picked up the next gift for Sherlock.

"Here you go." I said, handing him mine.

"Hold on, hold on." John said, stopping Sherlock from opening his gift and we all turned to him. He was looking at his flatmate, pointing at him. "No deducing your gifts before you open them." he said, and I chuckled a little, as Sherlock looked at him confused. "We want to be surprised when you open it." John said, but before Sherlock opened his mouth to say something, but stopped, tearing the paper off of the box.

"A microscope?" He asked, and I nodded.

"You were complaining about something being wrong with your, so I thought you might like a new one."I explained with a shrug, like it was no big deal, when really it cost me hundreds. I saw the corners of his lips turn up in a smile.

"Thank you." He said, his smile widening as he looked at it some more, studying it like a child would "This must have cost you a fortune." He said, his brows furrowed as he turned to look at me. I shrugged again.

"Nah, not really." I said. I always had money saved, usually in the thousands that I collected for Christmas. The amount was slowly dwindling, and Christmas had drained me, and I wasn't going to add any more to the pile since I didn't have a job, but it was for a good cause, I suposed.

Mrs. Hudson was next. She had gotten him a brand new scarf since his other one had been torn one of the cases they had been on, though God only knows how that happened. It was an old scarf, though, and was falling apart anyway. The one she had bought him, though, was almost identical to his old one.

John smiled a little at me when Sherlock opened his, and when I heard Sherlock sigh, I turned to look. The box read :_Cosmos: A Spacetime Odyssey. _I chuckled a little As Sherlock rolled his eyes, looking at Johnn.

"Really?" He asked. Mrs. Hudson looked confused, and I made a mental note to catch her up later on.

"Alright, Elizabeth. It's down to you." John said, leaning back in his chair. I grabbed the box from my lap that Mrs. Hudson had given me earlier, opening it immediately.

I unwrapped the book and smiled.

"How did you know this was my favorite?" I asked, holding up a copy of _To Kill a Mockingbird_. She shrugged.

She only shrugged. It was a hardback, but had the original cover, and no doubt cost a lot. "Thank you so much." I said, opening the book, glancing at the pages quickly before another gift was handed to me.

"Here ya go." John said, reaching over the coffee table to give the box to me. I put the book in my lap and took the box from John.

"The three of us actually kind of collaborated on this one." He said before I opened it.

When I unwrapped it and tore off the lid to find it was a box full of movies. From some of my favorite horror movies, to romances (which I didn't watch much, but there were some I enjoyed), the box held all different genres , but all were some of my favorite movies.

"This is insane.' I said with a chuckle, picking through the movies. "I love this."

I opened Sherlock's next, which was a small, rectangle box wrapped in gold paper.

Inside the rectangle box was a silver necklace with a cameo, which I loved,. I looked closer and saw a hinge. It was a locket.

I opened it and saw pictures, on of John and I that we had taken had taken a few months back. On the other side was a picture of Sherlock and I the night we found John's phone and decided to take thousands of photos of us. It was one of the nicer ones we took, neither of us making a silly face, both of us had smiles on our faces. I smiled at the locket, and had Sherlock help me put it on immediately.

"Thank you. I love this so much!" I said, unable to stop smiling, scooting closer to him, wrapping my arms around his torso, attempting to hug him while sitting down. he wrapped his arms around my shoulders, giving me a quick squeeze, before dropping one arm, leaving the other draped around my shoulders.

"Well, you know what would make this Christmas even better?" John asked. We all stared at him waiting for his to finished. "Some Ice cream." he said, sending a look to Mrs. Hudson. I laughed.

"That's the only reason he got you the ice cream maker. He wasn't thinking about how much you might enjoy it. He wanted some free ice cream." I said, earning a chuckle from Sherlock, and a shrug from John.

"I like free Ice cream, what can I say." Mrs Hudson laughed.

The rest of the day was spent with John trying on and modeling all of his jumpers, and taste testing his jam, while Mrs. Hudson made Ice cream (which made John very happy). Sherlock was at the table by the window, looking at his microscope, while I looked through movies in this chair.

"What about this one?" John asked, coming down the stairs and striking a pose in the doorway. I laughed at him with a hand on his hip one knee bent in front of him, holding up his other arm with a limp wrist.

"You know, you could be a model...if you were taller. And somewhat handsome." I said. He rolled his eyes and chuckled a little.

"I'm taller than you." He said. "And plenty of people have told me that I'm handsome."  
"And how many of those relationships have worked out?" I asked, jokingly. He sent me a glare. "You know, I think that one is the best out of all of them. Good thing you have two, right?"

"Yeah. He said, looking down at his sweater, dropping the pose. "That way, if I get jam on one, I have the other one."

"Exactly." I said, smiling, picking up another movie, reading the back of it, though I already knew what happened in the movie. Still, it was fun.

John ran up the stairs to try on another jumper

I sighed, and stood up. "I have to pack." I groaned.

"Pack?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah. We're leaving to go to Harry's in a few days, and we're going to be at your parents all day tomorrow, so I won't get the chance.." I reminded.

"Oh." He said.

"We'll only be gone a couple of days. Not too long."He only nodded, and I made my way back to the bedroom, grabbing a suitcase and putting clothes in, not really caring what I grabbed.

It was a little after noon by the time I had packed everything I needed, and I was tired. It seemed like such a small task, packing did, but it was exhausting. I zipped the suitcase, and flopped on my back on the bed, letting out a sigh, and closing my eyes, planning on resting them for just a few minutes.

I didn't hear Sherlock come into the room, only noticing he was here when he was shaking my shoulder. The room was dimmer than I remembered.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"Nine."

"Nine?" I asked, shocked. He nodded. "Oh."

"Sleep longer than you thought?" He guessed, and I nodded.

"I thought I had only closed my eyes for four seconds." I said, sitting up and rubbing my eyes.

"John was a little disappointed. He was excited to model another jumper." He chuckled.

"Not as disappointed as I am. I was enjoying his little fashion show."

"it was quite the performance." He agreed. I let out a laugh, before leaning my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes, still tired.

"Ready for bed?" Sherlock asked, a little amused. I nodded as he stood and let me crawl in, pulling the blankets to my chin, not bothering to change into different pajamas.

* * *

I fixed my shirt as we pulled up to Sherlock's parents house. Sherlock looked over at me fiddling with a loose string, trying to find a place to tuck it. He took my hand and squeezed it.

"Stop fussing. You'll be fine. no idea why you're so nervous."

"Because I'm meeting your parents for the first time, and I really want them to like me." I explained.

"Nonsense." He smiled at me. "They'll love you.." he said, kissing my forehead quickly before getting out of the cab, walking towards the door. I took a deep breath and followed him, having to jog to keep up. We weren't staying long was what he told me. just staying for dinner, and it would be just us and his parents, no other family that he mentioned.

Sherlock knocked on the door, while I stayed hidden behind him. A woman, who I guessed was his mother, opened the door, an older man behind her. I could tell these two were Sherlock's parents without a doubt. He looked just like both of them.

His mother greeted him with a hug, which he tried to move away from, but he lost, being engulfed in his mother's arms.

"And this must be Elizabeth." She smiled at me, pulling away from her son, making her way towards me. I shook her and her husbands hand before we were lead into the house.

During dinner, they would ask me questions, and I became more and more comfortable as time went on.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" I asked after we had finished eating and his mother rose from her seat, gathering plates. She shook her head.

"No, no, it's fine, you're our guest." She explained.

"No, Mrs. Holmes, I wouldn't mind a bit." Eventually I lost, sitting quietly at the table as she worked. Sherlock had gone outside with his Dad, so I was alone.

I took my plate to the sink, thinking I would help her out at least a little bit, and then took Sherlock and Mr. Holmes' plate as well. Mrs. Holmes turned to me and smiled.

"You don't give up easy, do you." She laughed, and I laughed with her as she took the plates from my hands.

"I would have felt awful if I didn't do _something_ to help." I explained. She smiled and continued to wash the dishes.

"Well, if you really would like something to do, you can stay in here and keep my company."

"Yes ma'am." I said, leaning against the counter.

What started out as a slightly awkward conversation turned into a hilarious one. Mrs. Holmes had finished her work made some coffee (which I was thankful for), and lead me into the living room, proceeding to tell me embarrassing stories about Sherlock when he was younger-how he would bounce around the house, pretending he was a pirate, dressing himself and his dog up as pirates as well.

She told me about Mycroft as well, how he was the same- bouncy and full of energy when he was young, but as he grew up, he became less energetic.

"That's how it is with a lot of kids.' I explained, taking a sip, but then shook my head. "Not necessarily like they have, though." She nodded.

"Sherlock told me you are studying psychology." She stated. I nodded with a smile.  
"Yes ma'am."  
"And art?" I nodded again. "I tried to take an art class ages ago."

"Really?" I asked.

"I liked it alright, but I was much more of a math person."

"Huh." I hummed, as her eyes caught something on my cup, or what I thought was my cup. her eyes moved from it, to me, giving me a smile. I smiled back, but brought my eyebrows together in confusion.

She was going to say something, when Sherlock and his dad entered the living room. Sherlock taking a seat beside me while his dad sat in the empty armchair.

"So, do you have a date set yet?" His mother asked.

"What?" I asked confused. Mr. Holmes seemed just as lost as I was.

"Not yet. Haven't talked about dates yet." Sherlock said, obviously knowing what was going on. Then it hit me. My ring. She was looking at my ring.

"Dates for what?" Mr. Holmes asked.

"The wedding. We're getting married." Sherlock explained, and I felt a weight lifted off of my shoulders when both of his parents smiled at us, saying they were happy for us.

"Though we wish we could have met you sooner." Mrs. Holmes said, sending a look to Sherlock.

"Yes, well, we've stayed busy the past year." He explained.

"Yes, we've seen the papers." His dad nodded.

The rest of the evening went well, his parents telling more stories, and Sherlock would roll his eyes, sigh, and mumble things under his breath when they talked about him, but laughed and added on to the story when talking about his older brother, who he loved to embarrass, though Mycroft wasn't even here.

That night, after we had left and already arrived home, I was bushed, and headed straight for bed, not even remembering changing into some night clothes, and falling asleep before my head hit the pillow.

* * *

We pulled up to Harry's, and she was standing on her porch. As soon as she saw up pull up, she ran off of the porch, her arms outstretched. I got out of the car to hug her while john got our luggage from the back, and paid the driver. She squeezed me so hard, I was sure she was going to break my back, before pulling away quickly, making her way over to John.

"It's been too long" She commented as we gathered our bags and made our way to the house. It wasn't large, just a small little cabin out in the middle of nowhere, but it was nice and quiet, much different from Baker Street, but I had the feeling I was going to like it all the same. "You and I," She began, turning and pointing at me "have a lot to talk about. I may be an alcoholic, but I don't miss everything, especially a shiny diamond ring on my little sisters finger." She smirked, and my face went red. Oh well, at least I didn't have to worry about telling her.

Mom was already inside cutting vegetables for lunch, and as soon as we walked into the kitchen, she let out a squeal of delight, dropping the knife on the counter with a loud thud, and running towards us, engulfing us both in a hug, which we returned. I had always been a mother's girl, following her around, no matter how old I was, and she was my best friend, helping through almost everything, and she was always my advocate. She always stuck up for me, of course telling me if I was in the wrong, but being sure to at least try to justify some of my actions if she deemed it necessary. Though, she could talk your ear off, and almost every thought that came to her head, had to come out. I like silence sometimes. Comfortable silences are a blessing, and they were very common in our home, until mom walked in, and broke the silence with her thoughts, not letting one slip her mind without informing us of it first. As annoying it became, though, I missed that.

She held us in the hug for what seemed like ages, before pulling back, looking at us both.

"I missed you two so much." She said, cupping our cheeks with her hand, while we both smiled.

"I'm making something for each of you. Your favorites." She said, going back to the counter. There were three plates sitting in front of her, each with different meals. I instantly found mine, a Green Goddess sandwich with hummus. I hadn't had one in years, and was ecstatic when i saw it.

We ate our lunch slowly, each of us talking and sharing stories about things that had happened since we had last seen each other. John and I told Mom and Harry about our lives at Baker Street, and told them about Christmas, explaining the Cosmos joke. Harry laughed, Mom did too, but didn't seem thrilled at the idea that we were working with Sherlock and putting ourselves in danger. I showed them the locket Sherlock had given me, and when I went to show mom the pictures inside, i had forgotten about the ring, and that Mom didn't know, but then she tugged at my hand, I knew I was in trouble.

"What's this?" She asked with a smirk. "Already engaged and I haven't even met him properly."

"I know, it's insane, isn't it?" Harry asked, jokingly.

"How did this happen?" Mom asked. "When did this happen?"

I told them all how he proposed, recalling parts of the speech he had recited that I remembered 100percent. Mom and harry looked as if they were going to swoon, while John only smiled.

"He sounds romantic." Mom said. Harry, (who knew about Sherlock and his mannerisms through John's blog), John and I all looked to each other, sharing knowing smiles. he wasn't very romantic at all, though he occasionally did have his moments in which he could put Rory Williams to shame, but, again, they didn't come often, and I was okay with that.

"What?" Mom asked. "He does!", and we explained, telling her some specific stories about Sherlock that said otherwise.. She was silent for a bit afterwards, which was something that rarely ever happened.

Harry, John and I cleaned up after dinner, since Mom had cooked, but it ended in war.

I was hiding behind the island in the middle of the kitchen, while John was on the other side. Harry was in the pantry, and each of us were waiting for the other one to make a move, soap bubbles in our hands. I also had a spoon that we were supposed to be washing, in my hand full of bubbles and some dish water to fling at either one of them.

There were some bubbles in my hair, but most of it was just water at this point, droplets of water going from my ponytail to my back, soaking my shirt, and I'm sure Harry and John were soaked too. Poor John had gotten most of it. Harry and I were teamed up towards the beginning, but she's a traitor and ditched me.

Witch.

Harry moved first, opening the pantry door just a crack, before flinging soap in my direction. Luckily, though, I saw her, and grabbed a pan, holding it in front of my face, so the soap hit it instead of me. I gave a shout of victory, as I charged forward and flung my spoonful of water at her, hitting her right in the forehead.

"Ha!" I laughed, just as soap was poured on my by John, who had been waiting patiently, and finally got a chance to sneak up on me. My smile fell, and I turned to him frowning, wiping water and soap from my eyes.

"Really?" I asked as he and Harry laughed.

"What in God's name…"We heard mom say. Instantly all three of us turned to look at her, Harry and John stopped laughing as Mom looked around the kitchen, seeing suds on the walls and our clothes soaked with dishwater. Instead of yelling, like she usually would have if we were kids, she chuckled quietly.

"You three are like toddlers trapped in adult bodies." She said. "What? Don't look at me like that, I'm not upset, so long as you clean up this mess when you've had enough. Go on, have at it. I'll pretend I saw nothing." She said, turning around and walking out of the room. We looked at eachother and laughed, all three of us going to the sink and grabbing a handful of soap and water, flinging it at her back. She jumped and turned around surprised, and we all tried so hard not to laugh, pointing fingers at one another. She glared at us, a hint of amusement in her eyes.

"You think it's funny, do you?" She asked, walking into the kitchen. I shook my head, but I was the first to get soap to the face, courtesy of my mother.

The war lasted 15 minutes, each of us soaked and shivering...well I was, and mom was too. Harry and John seemed to still be warm, or if they were cold, they never showed it.

Mom and I showered, changed, and then made dinner.

And that's how our days were spent. Telling stories, reminiscing, joking around with each other. Since we had been here Harry never had anything alcoholic to drink, and I could tell it was killing her, but I was proud, and even said something about it, encouraging her, which she appreciated. I made another mental note to tell Sherlock about it, since he was so sure she was still drinking.

"Elizabeth?" My mom called one morning after I had finished my shower. I had changed into some pajamas, since we had nothing planned for the day, and was drying my hair with a towel as I came down the stairs into the kitchen where Mom was making breakfast.

"yeah?" I asked, leaning on the island, throwing the wet towel over my shoulder, letting it hang there.

"I was just wondering," She said before pausing. I waited, leaning forward some more, waiting for her to continue. "just if you had thought about wedding plans. Date, a dress, decorations, things like that." She asked. I hadn't thought of it. Of course when I was a little girl I did, but recently it had never really crossed my mind, and suddenly i became nervous, like butterflies were in my stomach and something was sitting on my chest.

"Well, no, not really." I said.

"I thought we could do that this weekend. Not anything official, of course, that's up t you and Sherlock, just some ideas."

"Oh, yeah!" I agreed. "That would be great."

"We can talk after breakfast, if you would rather." She said, turning to the stove.

"I think that would be good, yeah." I agreed, before going into the hallway, bumping into Harry along the way.

"Hey Lil'." She said, using the nickname she had given me years ago. It used to be Lil sis, but had just been shortened to Lil', or Liz every so often. Her smiled faded as quickly as it came. "What's wrong?"

"Nothings wrong, why?" I asked.

"You look a little pale." I drug her into the living room where mom wouldn't hear us.

"Mom's talking wedding plans." I told her. She sat silently for a minute.

"Elizabeth, you do realise that you are in fact getting married." She said. I nodded, sighing.

"Yes, I know that, but I don't know bout…" I trailed off.

and I nodded.

"Sherlock?" She guessed,and I nodded.

"I mean, what if he doesn't want a big wedding. We never talked about it, I have no idea what he wants, and I know nothing will be official, and we're just thinking of ideas, but it still worries me."

"Call him." She said with a shrug.

"Call him?"

"Yeah." She said with a grin. "Call him and talk to him about it before you talk to mom. might help ease your mind a little." He patted my arm as I nodded, and stared at my phone on the coffee table. When she left, I picked it up, digesting the butterflies, and clicking the 'call' button beside his name.

Oy vey.

**Yeah, no idea how that phone call is going to go. Again, just another thing that just….happened!**

**This chapter was extra long (10 pages where the rest are usually 7 or 8. Maaaybe 6, but rarely)**

**The hardest part about writing this chapter, though, I think, was the bit with Sherlock's parents, so I kept it shorter than I would have liked for it to be.**

**Reviews!**

_**I love this story and how the plot is coming along. The reference that you applied to the story such as the okay with John and Sherlock was cleverly put together and it made me very happy. I also love how Elizabeth is her own character in the story and not just a character that just says exact lines from the script (if that makes sense). Keep up the great work and I hope this story receives more favorites, reviews, and follows. :)**_

_**From: Angelica324**_

**Thank you, dear! I'm glad you love it! And I couldn't pass up the opportunity to include a reference! I'm glad you liked it!**

**And it made a lot of sense. I had read fanfictions where characters say exact lines, and while I do have Elizabeth say those occasionally, not all of the time. I feel like it's kind of cheating, in a way, and she is maybe not as relatable or, like you said, her own character.**

**Thank you so much!**

_**Awww they are so adorable. I think Elizalock is a great name for this shipping, so I'm going to use it too! I think John's reaction was pretty tame, and I can't wait for the other characters to find out. It's good that you had a nice time in Chicago, and I agree how cities can be hectic sometimes, but now that I live in one, I can say its easy to get used to.**_

_**I'm looking forward to seeing what new challenges arise for Elizabeth and the Baker Street Gang, whether its relationships or Moriarty or maybe Elizabeth's ex making an appearance? I am super excited for the next few updates. I can only think of some crazy suggestions for your birthday (happy soon-to-be-birthday by the way!), like submitted scene suggestions for you to add (like how people suggested the LOTR marathon scene), or something awesome like a huge update (that's not going to impact your personal life too much :) )**_

_**Anyways, this review is getting long, so I'll wrap it up. Stay awesome.**_

_**By the crown of our forefathers,**_

_**\- Elyshia**_

**Hello!  
I'm not really too thrilled with John's reaction. I think it was a bit more calm than I imagined, but then again, he wouldn't want to say anything bad in front of his sister, who seemed excited, so thinking about that makes me feel a bit better, but it was very tame...So was Sherlock's parents and Elizabeth's mother's reaction.**

**Elizabeth's ex, Jem, coming back would be cool. Interesting. I will keep that in mind…**

**I have an idea for my birthday, since it will be my sweet sixteen, so it will be something big, but I am still taking requests having to do with what everyone wants. And thank you!**

**And thank you again for the review!**

_**Belladonna Took:Ooh, as always, I really enjoyed the chapter! Christmas at Baker Street is probably one of my favourite scenes from Season 2! I like how you wrote it, but I agree with GraySnowie.. THINGS HAVE BEEN GOING TOO WELL FOR ELIZALOCK! but it also strikes fear into my heart when you say you have things planned.. oh well XD **_

_**OOoOOOOo plans for Reichenbach Fall huh? I'm not scared.. *cries quietly***_

_**Also, thank chu for the Daily Motion thing! I finally got my hands on Reichenbach Fall (turns out it was in my house all along) and it was... a rollercoaster of emotions.. XD**_

_**John's reaction was not as I expected, but I still liked how you wrote it! I'm excited to see how you write other people's reactions, and I'm looking forward for Mycroft's reaction :D As for your birthday, (month-in-advance happy birthday!) I'd suggest 20 questions or maybe a huge update - as long as you're comfortable with doing them xD And I'm not a huge fan of huge cities, they are a little too hectic and noisy and people-y for me heh. But it's good you enjoyed Chicago! Being in a city (or anywhere) that is stressful or unpleasant is obviously very unenjoyable XD well I guess this is kind of getting long (actually shorter than usually :o) so..**_

_**EAGERLY AWAITING THE NEW CHAPTER! :D**_

_**-Belladonna Took **_

_**P.S I think I may have started a ship name (Elizalock)? XD**_

**Howdy! I loved the Christmas scene as well. And things have been going great…. *smiles evilly* we might just have to change that….**

**No problem about the Daily Motion! I love his channel, how he adds TV shows and you don't have to pay or anything to watch them. He did have Game of Thrones (which I really got into and loved) but he took them all down. Three seasons, gone. Ugh! My stepmom has the books, though, and is letting me borrow them.**

**I'm glad you like how I wrote John's reaction, but I don't think that's going to be the end of it. I can imagine he wouldn't be too please...I mean he might be happy for them, but that is his little sister. I'm working on it. (I don't know if any of that made any sense whatsoever, and if it didn't, I am so sorry. It's almost midnight as I am writing this, and I am tired.)**

**You did start the ship name, my dear, and I love it! Thank you for that, by the way!**

**I think that's it for the reviews, so I'm going to wrap this up, but not before asking something.**

**I have decided to do the massive update, AND the 20 questions, though I don't know what questions to answer, SO! You guys can, pretty pretty please, send in questions via review or PM for me to answer. I am willing to go above 20, I have no problem doing so, but I need questions to answer, so if you guys are curious about anything, feel free to ask away!  
Also, with the massive update, I am going to include scene requests-things you guys want to see, and all that good jazz. I know that (SPOILER! because you guys deserve it) I am going to do John and Elizabeth's day out, because I promised to do so a long time ago, and never got around to it, so I'm going to do it now! just tell me if there is anything else you guys want, and I'll be sure to add it in the next chapter!**

**That's it for now. Thank you for reviewing/following/favoriting/reading, and I'll see ya soon!**

**~Eruaphadriel**


	24. Chapter 24

**I am so, so, so, so, sorry about the last chapter. The reactions were absolute crap, and things like that, writing them out, that's my weak point. I need to work on it, a lot, but I'm hoping to fix some things, and make is better via dialogue in hte next few chapters.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy...**

The phone only rang twice before he answered.

"Yes?"  
"We need to talk." I said quickly, going outside onto the front porch. I sat on the porch swing, pulling my legs up to my chest.

It was silent for a few seconds. "Alright. What about?"

"The wedding. Mom's already talking wedding plans." I explained nervously, though I didn't know what I was nervous about.

"Okay. What about the wedding?"

"Well, I was just wondering what you prefered."

He paused. "How do you mean?"  
"Like, a big wedding, or a small one, to colors, where we're going to have it, that sort of thing."

"Oh. Okay." he said. I waited for him to say something.

"Nothing too big." He said finally. I nodded, though he couldn't see me, and a bit of the eight was lifted off of my shoulders.  
"Alright."  
"As for the colors, nothing bright, and somewhere we can fit all of the guests." Sherlock added quickly. "I hate to do this, but I've got to run; Lestrade needs me for some reason."

"Alright. Thank you." I said, and he hung up.

When I went back inside, breakfast was finished, and we ate. Harry and I shared a few glances, and after a while, when Mom and John finally fell into a conversation, she spoke, quietly.

"Did you call him?"

"Yeah." I nodded, shoving another forkful of eggs into my mouth.

"What did he say?" She asked, taking a swig of her milk.

"Nothing big or bright." I summed up. Her brows furrowed.

"That's all?" I nodded.

"It was enough, though.I feel better." I assured her.

"So, Elizabeth." I heard mom say from the head of the table. I turned to her as John got up from his seat, taking his plate to the sink.

"Have you thought any more about the wedding?" She asked, though I didn't really have a whole lot of time to think about it. I nodded again, telling her what I told Harry as she grabbed her laptop, and typed in 'Google'.

She scrolled through venues, decorations, and pictures of dresses, but i didn't like any of them, to be honest. They were either way too flashy, or way too dull for my taste.

"Are you sure you don't like this one?" mom asked. "I think you would look lovely." I sighed, placing a hand to my forehead.

"No, it's too poofy." I said, unable to find another word to describe it.

"Oh. I suppose. I still think you would look marvelous, though." She said, scrolling through to find another dress. "Oh, what about this one?" she asked pointing to a dress covered in lace. "You like lace, don't you?"

"I do." I nodded "But not everywhere."

Mom sighed. "That's it. We are at the bottom of the page, the end, and you haven't found one dress that you like." she sat back in the chair and crossed her arms. "You have hated them all."

"With a passion." She sighed again, louder this time.

"You are so picky."

"Who are you calling?" I asked as she plucked her phone from the table.

"A friend.'

"For?"

"Your dress."

"I haven't picked one out yet!"

She shoved the laptop towards me. "We're just going to have to go shopping."

John came into the room just as mom walked out of it.

"Couldn't find anything?" He asked. I shook my head. He pulled mom's chair back out and sat down.

"Everything packed?" He asked. I nodded. "Good. We're leaving in a few hours." He said.

We said our goodbyes to Harry and Mom before climbing into a cab. Mom promised to come over and take me dress shopping with Harry and anyone else I wanted to invite.

The drive back to London was a long one, so as soon as we got home, I went straight to bed, falling asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

* * *

The next morning I spent unpacking my bags, while Sherlock stayed in the living room, playing the violin, stopping every once in a while, and playing the same part over again give or take a few notes. I guessed he was composing.

As soon as I was finished packing, I went to take a shower, but sighed as I realized we were out of shampoo.

I got dressed and grabbed my coat, heading to the store to get some more shampoo, and some things for lunch and dinner.

"Where you going?" Sherlock asked.

"Headed to the store." I answered.

"Hmm. Okay." he said, turning back to the window and playing again.

" You composing?" I asked, pulling my coat over my shoulders.

"Helps me to think."

"What are you thinking about?" John asked from behind me, coming back down the stairs from his room.

Sherlock spun around quickly, pointing to John's laptop. "The counter on your blog is still stuck at one thousand eight hundred and ninety-five."  
"Yeah, it's faulty." John shrugged.

"Faulty. Or you've been hacked, and it's a message." Sherlock pulled the camera phone from his pocket and typed something in. Immediately, the phone let out a warning beep, and the enthusiasm in Sherlock's eyes died again. "Just faulty." He turned back to the window, beginning to play again.

I sighed and shook my head, before telling John I was going out for a bit, and walking to the front door.

As soon as I pulled the large door shut, someone called my name, and I turned to look at them. A man stood on the sidewalk, smiling, wearing an expensive suit.

"Yes. Can I help you?" I asked him.

"I was wondering if you had any plans for New Years?" He asked.

"I'm sure my brother and my fiancee are doing something." I said, as a black car pulled up and stopped beside us. I inwardly groaned. "You know, Mycroft could just phone me like he's done the past few days if he didn't have this stupid power complex." I grumbled, getting into the car.

We drove to the abandoned Battersea Power Station, and the man got out leading me through the building.

"Through here." He said, gesturing ahead of himself, grabbing his phone and typing something into it. I walked in, looking around, but i didn't see anyone or anything.

" He's writing sad music; doesn't eat; barely talks – only to correct the television." I walked further into the room and saw someone move at the other end. "I would say he's heartbroken, but it's Sherlock. He does that anyway." I said-the same type of things I told Mycroft the past several days when he would call and ask how he was doing.

"Hello, Elizabeth. Long time no see." Irene said, finally walking close enough so that I could see her.

"Tell him that you are alive." I demanded.

"He'd come after me." She said, shaking her head.

"I'll come after you if you don't." I responded. I wasn't threatening, I knew that. I wasn't the British GOvernment, like Mycroft, I wasn't terrifyingly intelligent, like Sherlock, and I wasn't a soldier, like John, but I could at least try to be.

" Mmm, I believe you."

"You were dead on a slab. It was definitely you." I said, louder this time.

"DNA tests are only as good as the records you keep."

"And you know the record keeper."  
"I know what he likes."

"Of course you do." I mumbled.

"And I needed to disappear."

"Then why can I see you. I don't even want to."

"Look, I made a mistake. I sent something to Sherlock for safe-keeping and now I need it back, so I need your help."

"No." I said.

"It's for his own safety." She said, attempting to convince me.

"So is telling him you're alive."

"I can't."

"Then I will. I will not keep secrets from my fiancee like this." I said. She smiled.

"Oh you're engaged now, are you. Congratulations."  
"I still won't help you." I turned to walk away.

"What do I say?" She asked.

"What do you normally say?" I asked, turning back around to look at her. "You have texted him a lot."

"Just the usual stuff."

"There's no usual in this case."

""Good morning"; "I like your funny hat"; "I'm sad tonight. Let's have dinner" ... " She read from her phone. "... "You looked sexy on 'Crimewatch.' Let's have dinner"; "I'm not hungry, let's have dinner"."

"You flirted with Sherlock Holmes."

"I flirted at him. He never replies." I almost smiled.

"No, Sherlock _always_ replies – to _everything_. He's Mr Punchline. He will outlive God trying to have the last word." I saw this as he didn't think she was worth his time, and the thought made me smile wider.

"Does that make me special?" She asked, and my smile fell.

"I-I don't know."

" Are you jealous?" She asked, smirking.

"No."

"I think you are. I know that if the woman my fiancee seemed heartbroken over came back from the dead, I would be a little...worried." I didn't say anything. "There." She turned to show me her phone. ""I'm not dead. Let's have dinner."."She pressed 'Send'.

"Thank you." I said with a tiny smile, glad that she told him, but my smile fell as a familiar female sigh filled the room. I patted my pockets, making sure I didn't accidently grab Sherlock's phone instead of mine (which has happened before. Kind of funny, actually.)

The only thing I found, though, was my phone, and a few candy wrappers.

I saw someone move, and I went to go after them, but Irene held up a hand.

"I don't think so, do you?" She asked.

* * *

I jumped out of the car and walked to the door, not looking back. I went to grab the door handle, but a paper held down by the doorknocker.

**CRIME IN PROGRESS**

**Please Disturb**

Confused, I walked inside, and went to go upstairs, but John and Mrs. Hudson stopped me, Mrs. Hudson sniveling, her arms folded over her chest, covering half of her face, while John lead her downstairs.

"What's wrong?" I asked, immediately.

"I'll explain everything later, come on." He said, nodding towards Mrs. Hudson's door. I followed them like John asked me to instead of going upstairs.

John told me what happened-Mrs. Hudson was attacked by an American, but that was all Sherlock had told him.

He was dipping a rag into some kind of liquid, then rubbing it gently on one of the scars. She flinched and winced a little when he did so, whispering about it stinging.

I jumped almost completely off of the chair when something outside landed on something, creating a loud crash.

"Oh." Mrs. Hudson said. "That was right on my bins." She finished just as a male groan came from outside her window.

Later that night, after the police and ambulance had arrived, I stayed inside with Mrs. Hudson and John, not interested in getting involved with police or anything like that.

Sherlock walked in a few minutes later, whipping his feet off on the doormat.

"She'll have to sleep upstairs in our flat tonight. We need to look after her." John said.

"No." Mrs. Hudson shook her head.

"We do." Sherlock agreed. "But she's fine."

"No she's not, look at her." John said as Sherlock opened the fridge, picking something from it. "She's got to take some time away from Baker Street. She can go and stay with her sister. Doctor's orders." John continued.

"Don't be absurd." Sherlock said, taking a bite of the desert he got from the fridge.  
" She's in shock, for God's sake, and all over some bloody stupid camera phone. Where is it, anyway?" I asked.

"Safest place I know."

Mrs. Hudson reached down her shirt, pulling the phone from it. "You left it in the pocket of your second-best dressing gown, you clot. I managed to sneak it out when they thought I was having a cry."

Sherlock took it. putting it back in his pocket. "Thank you. Shame on you, John Watson." He said.

" Shame on _me_?!"

" Mrs Hudson leave Baker Street?" Sherlock asked, putting an arm around Mrs. Hudson's shoulders. " England would fall."

* * *

"Where is it now?" I asked after John had gone to bed, and Sherlock came back into the living room. He was tinkering with his violin, tuning it.

"Where no one will look." He responded.

"Whatever is on that phone is more than just pictures."

"Yes."

"So, she's alive, then." I said, hesitantly. "How to we feel about that?"

"Happy New Years, Elizabeth." Sherlock said as Big Ben tolled the hour in the distance. I could barely hear it.

"Sherlock," I sighed. He seemed upset, almost angry. He didn't say anything. He only stood and turned to the window, beginning to play, never meeting my eyes. I gave up, not wanting to bother him, and went to bed.

**So, that was short, and I am so so so sorry for the long wait and the short chapter. Over the past few days, and I have started school, again, a NEW school, and it's been different and stressful. Also, it had messed with my sleep schedule, and I have been exhausted. This morning, though, it caught up with me. I woke up with anxiety, and afterwards, I felt mentally and physically drained. I haven't felt well this week at all, and I haven't gotten much writing done.**

**The big chapter will be the next chapter, but I am going to go ahead and do the 20 questions since I have some extra time.**

**20 Questions:**

**There was a question asked by the lovely Belladonna Took:**

**1)**_**Where did you get the inspiration and idea for Elizabeth Watson as a character?**_

This is actually a really good question! I love writing fanfiction and being able to put my own spin on any story, so I write it a LOT!

When I got into Sherlock, I knew writing his character would be difficult, and I like to challenge myself with writing, whether it be writing in new genres, or difficult characters, and Sherlock is as difficult as I thought he would be, so I instantly began to think about different plots and different ideas.

I began reading Sherlock fanfiction to help get ideas, and see what other people have done with this show, and I was inspired and in awe of authors who had given him some sort of romantic relationship with an original character, and I thought I would try that out, because I had dipped my toes into romance before, and while I'm not good at it, it was familiar. And so, Elizabeth was born.

I originally wrote this as a test for myself, and posted it to read other opinions, and this story soared from there.

In short, I got my inspiration from other authors, but her personality kind of blossomed from there, without me giving it much thought, and she turned out a lot better than I thought she would.

Thank you for your question, and I hope I answered it. I know the answer is kind of long, and it went in a different direction in the beginning, talking about the story instead of Elizabeth, but I hope I answered it in the end. Thank you again!.

**(The rest of the questions are just randoms ones I pulled from the internet. I didn't want to do usual questions, so I chose some odd ones!)**

**2)**_**Habbits?**_

I am a fidgeter. I fidget a LOT, and I also tend to look into things way too much-like little, friendly gestures, you know?

**3)**_**Favorite word? Least favorite?**_

I LOVE the word 'tummy'. You could be having the most serious conversation in the world, and someone breaks out the word 'tummy', and it's just so adorable! I love it!  
As for my least favorite, there is a lot, but the one that makes me squirm the most is…*looks around the room, nervously*, *whispers* the...s-e-x word.

I don't know why it makes my stomach churn and makes me want to do the technicolor yawn (throw up), but it does. I can't stand it. Makes me squirm thinking about it. I hate it hate it hate it hate it!

**4)**_**Fears?**_

E.V.E.R.Y.T.H.I.N.G!

I am terrified by a lot of things- spiders, people, socializing, tight spaces, ghosts, the dark, loud noises, yelling (when people start to yell, or I hear a loud noise, it gives me really bad anxiety. I don't know why…), needles, dolls, heights, snakes, anything with more than four appendages, and most animals, fish…

I am even scared to take a bath, people. It's bad. I'm afraid there's something under the water, and if you've ever heard of The Bath Game…? Nope, nu uh, no ma'am, Mm Mm. It makes my eyes water thinking about it. Nada, absolutely not, F-ing nope!

(If you don't know what the bath game is, you chan check out this video:  watch?v=IV7qavdRLe0&amp;index=11&amp;list=PLfH29ymvks-WrOV9e4989iNUDqusdV0WB made by Alana G. She does paranormal videos galore, and she is amazing, even if you don't believe in these kind of things (I don't, necessarily, but they are interesting), (WARNING: the video is creepy, and you don't HAVE to watch it if you find the images disturbing. Really the images aren't too important in any of her videos that I have seen. You can choose to only listen if you want, but her videos are very good, and put together amazingly! I love them!) She does a whole series on games (Most Horrifying Games is what it's listed under), and I have seen almost every single one of them. (the Raven Man at some point in the images, looks like Tom Hiddleston….))

**4)**_**Starsign?**_

Leo!

**5)**_**What was your last dream about?**_

This is funny, kind of, but I am so ashamed to say it.

It was right before I started school,for some odd, yet glorious reason, Thor, yes Thor, the god of thunder, was our teacher, but he was a really cool teacher too. I remember once, in my dream, he put his hammer on top of all of our graded papers, so no one could get them back, and we all just laughed about it, it was really fun.

But that's not the weird part.

Somehow, some way, don't ask me how it happened, but Thor, a few other classmates, and I ended up busting out 'Thinking Out loud" by Ed Sheeren after class…?

It was really odd.

When I woke up, I was dying with laughter. It was hysterical.

**6)** _**Beatles, or Elvis?**_

I love them both so much, this is like asking to choose between my two children, but I listen to the Beatles more than I do Elvis, I think. I still hate this question, though….

**7)** _**Do you sing in the shower?**_

Only when I get scared, which is usually when I'm home alone in the shower because I'm afraid something is outside of my shower curtain, and waiting to kill me (I watched Psycho, and wasn't the same…), and when I get scared, I pray, and sing. Usually Disney…

**8**)_**Dinos, or Dragons?**_

Dragons, duh!

**9)** _**Introvert or extrovert?**_

Introvert.

**10)** _**What color are your eyes?**_

Blue. Though, I had someone tell me they were gray the other day…

**11)** _**What historical period would you live in if you could go back in time?**_

18-1900's. Preferable World War II Era, around the late 30's, early 40's would be cool. I love the fashion, and the music, and most men were actually gentlemen-you just don't find that now days…

**12)** _**Favorite monarch of all time?**_

Queen Victoria. Not only was she one of the longest ruling monarchs, her rule lasting around 64 years,I think it was, but she is said to be one of the most beloved (or so I've heard).

I like Queen Elizabeth II, too. She seems pretty cool.

**13)**_**Scared of needles?**_

The fear I have of needles is abnormal. When I went to the doctor before I went to Chicago, they did some blood work. I was crying as soon as they said something about it.

My mom's friend, and a good friend of mine as well, was working that day, so that made me a little more comfortable, and they took me to the blood donors room so that I didn't have to sit in an uncomfortable chair.

I lost track of time, and most of it is a blur, but I remember crying and pulling my arm back towards my chest begging my mom to take me home , and basically say 'Okay, never mind. We don't have to do this.', but she wouldn't.

My sister was there, and when I asked her about it, she said it took 15 minutes for them to get me to calm down enough to actually take my blood….

Wasn't my best moment….but I got stickers!

**14) **_**Piercings? How many?**_

I am scared of needles, so I never even got my ears pierced once. Most people think it's odd, but I don't care. I just walk up to the counter at Clair's with my little clip ons (Because that's the only place I can find them!)

**15) **_**Nicknames?**_

My real name is Christa, so my mom calls me Chris a lot. My middle name is Charlene, so people call me that, or, like my grandmother, they call me CC, and sometimes she calls me princess…

She's not too far off :)

Oddly, I actually, sometimes, prefer nicknames over my real name, I don't know why.

**16)**_**Talents?**_

I sing a lot, and I play guitar, piano, French horn, and I am learning violin (which I love immensely)

**17)** _**MBTI.**_

I am an INFJ…

(If you don't know what this is, I suggest you look it up. It is really interesting, and the personality description as far as I know, has been almost perfect for everyone who has looked into it. There are always exceptions to the rule, but for the most part, mine fits perfectly.)

**18)**_**Celebrity crush?  
**_Tom Hiddleston.

**19)** _**Favorite quote?**_

I have a lot of favorite quotes, one of my favorites being "Sometimes, it is the people no one imagines anything of, who do the things that no one can imagine." from '_The Imitation Game_, (which was an amazing movie, Benedict did an outstanding job!)

Another one of my favorites is: "So comes snow after fire, and even dragons have their endings." From _The Hobbit._

**20)** _**Current projects?**_

I am learning violin (as I said earlier) and guys...it's hard! I mess up all of the time. I've only been playing for a couple of days, but you would think I would be able to get a some-what decent sound out of it instead of a squeak. The sad part is, I know how to NOT do that, yet it happens anyways.

ALSO I am working on an original book. I am still working on the outline (A-freaking-gain, because the last one was crap!), so I don't have all of the kinks out of it yet, and there is nothing set in stone, but I THINK it will be called _Bound, _but I'm not sure yet, I'll have to finish the outline and start writing it first.

I plan to sell in as an e-book, maybe on when it is finished, and I'm thinking about doing discounts and such, but I don't know much about gumroad yet.

If you guys have any ideas for the title, maybe it could be dragon related (that would be awesome), that would be amazing, and would help me out a lot! (You'll get credit for it, of course!)

**So, 20 questions-DONE! Now I just have to write the long chapter…**

**I started school, and I'm riding home with a friend, and sometimes I go over to her house for a while, so I don't know exactly how much time I'll get to write tomorrow and Tuesday afternoon, but I promise to get something done. Then Wednesday, my mom and I are going to Vanderbilt to get an X-ray done on my back and see if it's getting worse or better, and I'll try to convince her to let me bring the laptop and write on the way up there since it's an hour, almost two hours, away, but I don't know about that yet or not. I will have it up sometimes next week, or late this week, though! Promise! I've just had a lot on my mind. It's been really bad, too. I woke up Friday and had anxiety really bad. I almost made Mom late for work because of it. Afterwards, I felt so physically, emotionally, and mentally drained, I told my step-dad I wasn't going to school, and went to my room, and slept the whole day. It happens sometimes, but it wasn't as bad as it was Friday….**

**And if any of you guys ever get to that point, and you want to talk to someone, don't hesitate to PM me. I am ALWAYS free to talk, and I check my email almost daily, so I will see your PM. It's not a fun experience for anyone, and it's good to talk to someone, so please, if you feel comfortable with it, don't hesitate to talk to me. I promise no part of the conversation will ever cross my lips. It will be 110% confidential.**

**Anyway, I'll see you guys later.  
**_**~Eruaphadriel**_


	25. Chapter 25

**Hello.**

**How are you all? I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! This is the big chapter I promised, though I don't think it will be as long as some of the others, so…**

**But there is a contest at the end. The winner get to pick the prize (there will be choices, of course), but there is more about that in the ending author's note.**

Sherlock had already left early this morning. When I woke, he was already gone, the bed cold, so he had been gone for a while, I guessed.

When I got up, I asked John if he had seen him, but he shook his head.

"He's not asleep?"

"Nope." I said, plopping down into Sherlock's chair.

"Lab?" John guessed. I shrugged, picking up my phone, sending Sherlock a text.

"Maybe."

I simply asked where he was and when he thought he was going to be home. Mrs. Hudson had decided to help me make dinner and teach me more about cooking, and Sherlock always gave his honest opinion, without being too harsh which I appreciated.

I never got a text back, and Sherlock walked in a few hours later.

"Hey." I greeted him, turning a page of my book. He only grunted in response, going back to the bedroom. His mood hadn't changed since last night, apparently.

"Everything okay?" I asked. He nodded.

John walked in from his room, greeting Sherlock just as I did, actually getting a response, and starting a conversation.

Every time I tried, he would dismiss me; ignore me, or just grunt. John had noticed it to.

"What's going on between you two? I thought everything was going great, you know, happy, engaged, what's wrong?" he asked a few days later. We had taken a walk through the park, the one John had met his friend in when he first came to London, and we sat on the bench.

"I don't know. I would try to ask him and talk to him about it, but he'd just ignore me, as always." I mumbled.

"It started after the whole Irene ordeal." John suggested.

"Maybe her being alive affected him differently than I thought it would."

"Maybe." John agreed.

We walked back to the flat, and John went straight to his room, sending me a smile.

"Hi." I said. I felt as if these past few days I had been walking on eggshells around him, and I hated it. I hated how these past few days we could be in the same room, and where it used to be comfortable, it was one of the most exhausting things in the world, and I couldn't stand it any longer.

"Hmm." He hummed. I sat in John's chair across from him, crossing my legs in front of me.

"What's wrong?" I asked, but he didn't answer. "Sherlock, please, talk to me."

"Why?" he asked, simply, never looking at me.

"Because I think we have a lot to talk about. Gosh, Sherlock, you're acting like a pouty toddler." I sighed, angrily. He looked at me now, his brows furrowed, confused, but also upset, angry.

"What do we have to talk about?" He asked.

"Seriously?" I asked. "Genius, consulting detective, the only one in the world, and yet you can't figure it out?" I sighed, trying not to get too upset. "Why won't you talk to me?" I asked. "Every time I try to have a conversation with you, you ignore me. What's going on?" I asked, honestly wanting to help. He sighed this time. "Is it about Irene?" I asked. I took him not answering as a 'yes'. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." he answered, quickly.

"Okay." I said with a nod.

When he remained silent for a few minutes, I left, going up to John's room instead of my own.

"Nothing." I said, plopping down on his bed, frustrated.

"Did I _have_ to come with you?" Sherlock asked a month later, John handing him a shopping bag while I scanned the last item.

"Yes." John answered when I didn't. I decided to give Sherlock the silent treatment just like he was giving me, though I don't think he had really noticed. "We could use some help."

We carried the bags into the flat. Sherlock didn't take any, leaving John and I to do all of the work.

"Sherlock?" John asked, looking down the hallway. He was standing in front of the bedroom door, staring into the room. John and I went back there as well, following his gaze.

"We have a client." Sherlock said. I got there before John did, and what I saw made my heart pound.

"What, in your bedroom?"

"Yes. I wonder how they got there." I said, sarcastically, sending a glare to Sherlock, before looking back at Irene, who was lying in Sherlock's bed, and though she was fully clothed, it made no difference to me. She was here.

"Ooh." John said, placing a hand on my shoulder, leading me into the living room.

Some time later, Irene had showered and walked into the living room, wearing one of Sherlock's dressing gowns.

"So, who's after you?" Sherlock asked.

"People who want to kill me." Irene answered, sitting in Sherlock's chair in the living room, while Sherlock and John sat in the dining chairs. I was in John's.

"Who's that?"

"Killers." She answered.

"It would help if you were more specific." John said.

"So you faked your own death in order to get ahead of them." Sherlock guessed.

"It worked for a while."

"Except you let Elizabeth know that you were alive, and therefore me."

"I knew _you'd_ keep my secret."

"You couldn't." Sherlock said.

"But you did, didn't you. Where's my camera phone?"

"It's not here." John answered. "We're not stupid."

"Then what have you done with it?" She asked. "If they've guessed you've got it, they'll be watching you."

"If they've been watching me, they'll know that I took a safety deposit box at a bank on the Strand a few months ago."

"I need it."

"Well, we can't just go and get it, can we?" I asked.

"Molly Hooper could go and get it, take it to Bart's; then one of your homeless network could bring it here, leave it at a café, and one of the boys downstairs could bring it back up." John said to Sherlock, who smiled.

"Very good, John. Excellent plan with intelligent precautions." He complimented.

"Thank you." He picked up his phone. "So why don't…oh, for…"He stopped as Sherlock pulled the phone from his pocket. Irene jumped from her chair when Sherlock held the phone up in the air.

"So what do you keep on here, in general, I mean?" Sherlock asked.

"Pictures, information, anything I might find useful."

"What, for blackmail?"

"For protection. I make my way in the world; I misbehave. I like to know people will be on my side exactly when I need them to be." She answered.

"So how do you aquire this information?"

"I told you, I misbehave."

"But you've acquired something that's more danger than protection. Do you know what it is?" He asked.

"Yes, but I don't understand it."

"I assumed. Show me." Sherlock demanded, and Irene took the phone, punching in the code.

"It's not working." She said, as the phone beeped in a warning.

"No, because it's a duplicate that I had made, into which you've just entered the numbers one oh five eight." He walked to his chair, and retrieved the real phone from underneath the cushion. "I assumed you would choose something more specific, than that, but, um, thanks anyway." He said, punching the code in just as Irene had done. When he did so, it beeped aswell.

"I told you that camera phone is my life. I know when it's in my hand."

"Oh you're rather good." Sherlock said.

"You're not so bad." She smiled at him. I looked away, looking at John, who was frowning at them. Maybe I would take Mrs. Hudson up on her offer.

"Elizabeth Jane, and John Hamish Watson. Just if you were looking for baby names." I told them sourly. Sherlock frowned at me.

"There was a man-an MOD official. I knew what he liked." She walked away from us, typing on the camera phone, the real one. "One of the things he liked was showing off. He told me this email was going to save the world. He didn't know it, but I photographed it." She handed the phone to Sherlock. "He was a bit tied up at the time. It's a bit small on that screen, can you read it?" Sherlock sat at the other side of the table, and John narrowed his eyes at the photo. I didn't bother.

"Yes." Sherlock answered.

"A code, obviously. I had one of the best cryptographers in the country take a look at it-though he was mostly upside down, as I recall. Couldn't figure it out. What can you do, Mr. Holmes?" She asked, leaning over his shoulder. "Go on, impress a girl." Sherlock seemed oblivious to her approach, as Irene leaned forward some more and placed a kiss on his cheek. I bit the inside of my cheek.

"There's a margin for error but I'm pretty sure there's a Seven Forty-Seven leaving Heathrow tomorrow at six thirty in the evening for Baltimore. Apparently it's going to save the world. Not sure how that can be true but give me a moment; I've only been on the case for eight seconds." He said rapidly. We all stared at him. "Oh come on, it's not a code. These are seat allocations on a passenger jet. Look…" He turned the phone to John. "There's no letter 'I' because it can be mistaken for a '1'; no letters past 'K' – the width of the plane is the limit. The numbers always appear randomly and not in sequence but the letters have little runs of sequence all over the place – families and couples sitting together. Only a Jumbo is wide enough to need the letter 'K' or rows past fifty-five, which is why there's always an upstairs. There's a row thirteen, which eliminates the more superstitious airlines. Then there's the style of the flight number – zero zero seven – that eliminates a few more; and assuming a British point of origin, which would be logical considering the original source of the information and assuming from the increased pressure on you lately that the crisis is imminent, the only flight that matches all the criteria and departs within the week is the six thirty to Baltimore tomorrow evening from Heathrow Airport." he stood up this time, lowering the phone. "Please don't feel obligated to tell me that was remarkable or amazing. John's expressed the same thought in every possible variant available to the English language." He said.

"I would have you right here on this desk until you begged for mercy twice." Irene said, intensely, making me bite my cheek harder.

"John, please can you check those flight schedules; see if I'm right?" Sherlock asked, his eyes never leaving Irene's.

"Uh, yeah, I'm on it." He cleared his throat and began to type.

"I've never begged for mercy in my life." Sherlock said.

"Twice."

"Uh, yeah, you're right. Uh, flight double oh seven."

"What did you say?" Sherlock turned to John.

"You're right."

"No, no, no, after that. What did you say after that?"

"Flight double oh seven." Sherlock began to repeat the numbers to himself, and I saw Irene put a hand behind her back. I looked at, and he eyes were on me. I didn't say anything, though.

Sherlock had moved to the fireplace, standing in front of it, muttering to himself.

I heard Sherlock plucking the strings of his violin, as I grabbed my bag, and headed down the stairs to Mrs. Hudson's flat.

She opened the door with a smile on her face, but when she saw my bag, her smile turned to a sad one, as she ushered me inside.

"I don't want to be a burden." I began.

"Nonsense. I invited you to stay with me if you needed to." She placed the mug in front of me, and I took a sip. "Plus, I could use some help around here. I was wanting to repaint the living room."

"I would be happy to help." I said with a sad excuse for a smile. Mrs. Hudson sat beside me on her couch, wrapping a tiny arm around my shoulders. I sunk into the couch, bringing my legs up so that I could rest my head on her shoulder, as I would have done my grandmother.

"I never had a daughter. I always wanted one." She said. "I think of you as a daughter."

"Really?" I asked, looking up at her. She giggled.

"Of course." She said, grabbing a knitted blanket and draping it over me. We sat there for a few minutes, saying nothing, and the more I thought, the more I wanted to cry. I had no idea what was going on with Sherlock and Irene, and, to be honest, I think that what was scared me the most, was that I didn't know. I didn't want to jump to conclusions, but, I didn't want to ignore it, either. And it made sense. Sherlock hadn't been talking to me, ignoring me, and had been disappearing every now and then, before I woke up, and got back later that evening.

There was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Hudson went to answer it, but came back quickly.

I told Mrs. Hudson everything that had happened, and she listened intently.

"That sounded like my husband." She said. "He cheated on me with so many other women." She said, waving a hand in the air, her comment made me tear up even more, and a tear slid down my cheek. When she turned and saw, her face fell.

"Oh, I'm sorry." She whispered. I didn't say anything.

We talked for a few more hours, before Mrs. Hudson went to the store to pick up some groceries. I decided to stay, since I really wasn't looking my best.

A few minutes after she had left, there was a knock on Mrs. Hudson's door, and I went to answer it, surprised when Irene smiled at me.

"What?" I asked. Her smiled turned into a frown.

"Can we talk?" She asked.

"I don't think I like you enough to a bride's maid at your wedding, I'm sorry." I said.

"Huh, that's exactly what I was going to say."

"There is no wedding. Not mine anyway."

"Oh?" She asked. "So he's free, yes?" I sighed.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"I want to talk, I already told you." She shrugged. "May I come in. Please. I think we have a lot to discuss."

I waiting for a minute, waiting to a catch, but she said nothing else. She was still wrapped in Sherlock's dressing gown, her hair , though, was already dry and curled slightly.

I moved out of the way to let her come in, and we sat on the couch in silence at first, awkwardly.

"I wanted to tell you that there is absolutely nothing going on between Sherlock and I." She said finally, sincerely. "I know, and I understand if you may not trust me, but it was all my fault. I snuck into the flat, and I flirted with him, and, like I told you a while back, he never flirted back. Still doesn't." She shrugged a shoulder.

"Thank you." I said. "You're right, I didn't really trust you-still don't entirely, but thank you." She nodded.

"You're welcome. I felt bad."

"You felt bad?" I asked, confused. She nodded.

"A little." We stayed silent for a few more moments. "We got off to a bad start, didn't we?" She asked. I nodded.

"We did."

"Restart?" She whispered.

"Maybe." I nodded, causing a smile to ghost her face.

"Thank you." She stood. "Now, I need some help." I scoffed. "I need clothes."

"Oh." I said kind of ashamed in myself. Here she is, apologizing, and asking for something as simple as clothes, and I thought the worst of it. "I'm sure I could lend you some. We are about the same size." I said, standing up.

"Sherlock and John are already gone, in case you were wondering." She said. I remembered hearing the door shut before Mrs. Hudson left, but I didn't think much about it at the time.

"Alright." I said, going out of Mrs. Hudson's flat and up the stairs, going back to the bedroom to the wardrobe. "Anything specific?" I asked, looking through the clothes.

"Something fancy, preferably. Nothing like what you're wearing now." she said, looking at me, eyes scanning my outfit.

"Wow. Thanks." I said sarcastically, tugging at my plain gray shirt and my dark jeans.

"No problem."

I found a dress that would do perfectly. I had been saving it for a while, in case Sherlock and I ever went on a date in the future, which we did occasionally, but…well….now? It wouldn't do much good. It would just sit in the closet and pick up dust. Plus, it was the only thing I had that I think would suit her very well, not just in size, but colors as well, and I wasn't an expert, but I knew it would look nice.

"Also, could I borrow some make up? Nothing big, just a few things."

"Of course." I nodded. "As long as you don't have diseases." I joked and I heard her chuckle as she moved to the bathroom.

I still wasn't a fan of Irene's. But I could tell she was being honest, and really didn't intend on ruining our relationship. I don't know if I could be friends with her, but if I were to see her out in public, I wouldn't ignore her.

I set the dress on the bed, and moved back to the living room, sitting on the couch to wait.

She came out a few minutes later, in the dress; her hair pinned up in an elegant bun, her make up done, much better than I could do, and the dress and heals fit perfectly.

"Looks nice." I nodded. She spun around.

"Do you think? I like it." She nodded. I nodded again.

"Nice." I repeated.

"I'll make sure you get it back." She offered, but I shook my head.

"Keep it." I said. She sent me a look. "I'm positive."

"Well, thank you. That's very kind." She smiled. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be on my way." She began to walk out of the door. "Oh, and dry your eyes, and get some ice cream. You definitely look like you need to make a date with Ben and Jerry." She winked, and walked out of the door. I looked in the mirror, and saw what she saw, which made my cringe. There were circles under my eyes, and my cheeks were red and puffy, as were my eyes. I blew out a breath, and went down to Mrs. Hudson's. Maybe she had some ice cream, because that would hit the spot….

John had relayed everything that happened, going off of what Sherlock had told him earlier that week, when this all happened-the plane had been full of dead people, put there by Mycroft and the men working for him (though, they did all of the work.). The plane was going to blow up due to terrorists, so they designed the flight of the dead to prevent casualties. Clever, but the project was canceled.

"Why?" I asked him as soon as he said it.

"Because your fiancé was desperate to show off, and deciphered the email for Irene, you remember that, yes?" He asked. I nodded.

"She passed on the information off to someone else. They knew that we knew, and everything was ruined."

"That sounds like him- a show off." I mumbled, looking down at my fingers.

"Are you still upset with him?" John asked. I thought before shrugging.

"I don't know. I don't know why he was ignoring me, or if he'll even still talk to me."

"Never know unless you try." John suggested.

"Yeah, I guess." I said with a shrug of a shoulder.

"Let's do something today." John said.

"I thought you had to work."

"I'm taking the day off." He said. "Go get washed up, you stink."

I laughed, and headed for Mrs. Hudson's bathroom, taking my bag of clothes with me to change. I had gone up and got some more, and Mrs. Hudson had put the others in a drawer in her room, which I was allowed to go and get anytime I needed to, but it would be quicker to take the bag instead.

"Oops."

"Seriously when was the last time you showered?" He asked, jokingly.

"Ha, ha." I closed the door.

I took a shower and brushed my teeth quickly, got dressed, and met John back in the living room in less than an hour, not bothering to do anything to my hair.

"Ready?" John asked, and I nodded grabbing some extra cash, and my phone, following him out of the door.

We went to the London Dungeon first, and I clung to John's arm the whole way. It was scarier than I imagined, but John and I had fun throughout the whole thing, laughing at ourselves once we were out.

Next we went to The National Gallery, which I enjoyed immensely. John and I stopped to look at everything, marveling at the paintings that adorned the gallery walls. It would take a life time to count how many paintings were in here.

We stopped for lunch afterwards, a small café, nothing special. I had ordered a veggie wrap, while John got a salad, eating slowly.

"So, Mrs. Hudson hasn't driven you crazy yet?" John guessed. I shook my head.

"She's not home a lot, actually. She's either cleaning your flat, or she's playing bridge with some of her friends, or she's shopping." I explained.

"She said you were going to do some painting." He took another bite of his salad as I put my drink down on the table.

"Yeah, she's repainting her living room, and I offered to help." He nodded, slowly, as he chewed. "Thank you for taking me out today, Johnny." I said. He smiled.

"It's no problem. I was wanting to go sightseeing for a while, and you seemed a bit down, thought today would be perfect. Might help lift your spirits a little."

"Thanks."

"You both look horrible, you know." He commented.

"Probably because Irene is gone again. Did she say where she was going?" I asked. John rolled his eyes.

"I don't think it's Irene. Remember what she said-nothing was going on between them." He reminded. "You need to at least try to talk to him."

"Is this why you took me out today?" I asked, my voice raising slightly. "So you could try and fix things?"

"No." John said, seriously. "Not at all, Elizabeth, not at all. Of course, as much as I hated it at first, you both seemed happy, and I have to say, I do think you guys are great together, and I don't want to see either one of you unhappy, especially you. But that is not why I brought you out here. Not to fix your relationship with Sherlock, if there even is a relationship there anymore, but to spend a day with my little sister, and try to make her smile." John explained. I immediately felt awful, and tore my eyes from his, staring at the table.

"Sorry." I whispered.

"S'okay." He replied. "You're upset, and don't try to tell me that you're not, because I know you. You not happy Elizabeth. The happy Elizabeth would have been singing Disney princess songs all the way through the London Dungeons because she was scared." I laughed at him. "Or would have stopped to pet the stray cat, instead of stare at it, because you're a weirdo like that. Seriously, cats can get rabies too, did you know that?" I giggled even more, but John didn't even crack a smile. "It could bite you and you could die. You could die, but you don't care because the cat's 'adorable, and deserves to be pet' and deserves your precious time. I'm serious it could have cat cancer and mange, that's gross." I had to hold back a snort as he imitated my voice, his going higher that I thought possible to do so. "And when mom called, like she did earlier this morning, she wouldn't have said 'Hi mom', you would have said 'Hi _mommy_' because you're a child." He still wasn't laughing at himself, but I was laughing harder than I had in weeks. "Talk to him." John said finally, after my laughter had died down, and we had stayed silent.

"I don't know what to say."

"Something. Anything." John shrugged. "Just let him know how you feel."

Easier said than done.

The rest of the day was spent just like it began-John and I having fun seeing London. I tried to be a little happier, and it seemed to be working-John made a comment about my happier mood, and I smiled wider, though it hurt my face.

We got home around dark, with bags hanging from our arms. We got something from every place we had gone if we could, and we were loaded with souvenirs.

John dropped me off at Mrs. Hudson's flat (even though the stairs were literally a couple of steps away), before climbing the stairs.

"Did you have fun?" Mrs. Hudson asked. She was washing some dishes in the sink. I tried to tell her that they made dishwashers, which would be easier, but she refused to buy one.

"Yeah, John and I had a great time." I smiled, putting the bags on the kitchen table.

"Oh, something was left for you here. Said to keep in the freezer?" She opened the freezer and pulled out a cardboard box, handing it to me. I stared at it, confused, before turning it over.

_Thought you might need some, dear, so I sent some your way._

_Enjoy!  
-Love, Irene XX_

_P.S. I didn't touch it…_

Well, that's...reassuring.

I did smile, though, when I read the note. Sadly, there was no return address, so I couldn't thank you

_Sherlock may still have her number…._

I opened the box with a kitchen knife, being careful not to cut too deep into the box, and pulled out a pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream, chuckling to myself.

"It should be done when you get back." I announced to Mrs. Hudson, who was fretting around the flat, nervously, her home phone stuck underneath her arm, and her purse slung over her shoulders.

"Alright." She said. "If you don't get it all done today, it's fine. Are you sure you can manage on your own? Why not get Sherlock-"

"I can do it alright." I nodded, not wanting help from anyone, especially him. I wasn't mad at him, I just knew it would be awkward.

"I know he would help you."

"I'll be fine, really Mrs. H. Don't worry." I said with a smile.

"Alright." She said, grabbing the last of her things, and left. She got a phone call a few minutes ago, and had a small emergency, something concerning one of her friends, I didn't catch all of the details, she was talking too fast, but she had to leave quickly. We had planned on painting today, but I told her I would do it, at least three of the walls.

"Oh, I made some tea, would you mind taking some up to John and Sherlock, please." She asked.

"Sure thing." wasn't getting out of this one.

I walked to the kitchen and grabbed the tray, my fingers shaking, as I took it upstairs.

I could hear Sherlock's violin, playing the same melody it had been for the past couple of days. I didn't recognize it, neither did Mrs. Hudson when I asked her, but then again, we didn't know every piece of classical music ever made. This could be a conversation starter, if I wanted to initiate a conversation.

The door was closed, which I thought was odd-usually when Sherlock's awake, he keeps it open.

I knocked before opening it, not really waiting for a reply. It felt odd having to.

Sherlock stopped playing and turned back around, rolling his eyes as he did so, and sighing, his shoulders sagging, expecting Mrs. Hudson no doubt, but when he saw me, he straightened, putting his violin on the table, clearing his throat.

"Elizabeth." He greeted.

"Sherlock." I replied. "Mrs. Hudson asked me to bring your tea up to you." I explained, motioning to the tray in my hands.

"I see." He said. Neither one of us said anything else, we just stood there, awkwardly, in the middle of the flat. I cleared my throat this time.

"Um, where do you want this?" I asked.

"Oh, um," he glanced around the flat. He cleared away a spot on the dining table. "Here is fine."

"Alright." I said, putting it where he wanted me to.

I stayed for a moment, before sighing.

"Right, well, I'll go back down." I explained, though I felt like an idiot for doing so. Where else would I go?

"Thank you." he said as I was leaving. I turned around, surprised.

"You're welcome." I sent him a tiny smile, before taking a deep breath, and heading for the stairs again.

"Elizabeth." I heard him call, and I turned again.

"Yes?"

"Can we talk?" He asked. My tiny smile widened.

"Of course." I turned completely this time, and Sherlock walked towards me.

We didn't say anything for a long time, both of us just looking around the flat, waiting for the other one to break. Sherlock spoke first.

"You thought I was cheating on you." He said.

"There was a lot of evidence supporting that assumption, yeah." I nodded.

"How so?"

"You were gone most of the day at least once a week, leaving before I woke up, and then getting home late that evening. You ignored me, only having full conversations with John, and then Irene…." I didn't finish. He knew what I was talking about.

"We're going back to Irene?" He asked.

"She's the whole reason this is going on." I said, looking at him now. "So, yes, this goes back to Irene."

"Nothing was going on, Elizabeth."

"I know, she told me."

"She told you?"

"After you left, she came down to Mrs. Hudson's and explained everything, saying she never meant to do any damage to our relationship, and wanted things to be right again."

"And you believed her?"

"Not really."

"Do you believe me?" He asked. I stayed silent for a moment, thinking, before I answered.

"Yes." I said. "Though you never explained where you were."

"Here and there. Somedays I was at the lab, scanning the phone, others I was trying to find ways to bypass the security code. Took some interviewing and some professionals. Sadly none of them were good enough."

"And why you wouldn't talk to me?" I wondered. He thought for a moment.

"Elizabeth, you _are_ important to me." He said, looking me in the eyes this time. "You are. Don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise." he paused before continuing. "I was tricked. She fooled me. I should have figured it out, somehow known it wasn't her. I should have been clever enough to figure it out, yet I didn't. When I found out she was alive, I felt stupid. I felt dumb. I was worried you would think the same." He admitted, looking to the floor.

"Sherlock, I could never think you were dumb." I said. "People get tricked, they slip up, they make mistakes. That doesn't make you dumb, or an idiot. it makes you human. My feelings never changed for you just because you missed something that may or may not have even been there at all. And while I love your intelligence, that's not why I love you." I explained.

He stayed silent, his eyes scanning my face. "Why do you love me?" He asked with a sigh.

I shrugged with a smile. "I don't know. That's the beauty in it, I suppose." I said, with a tiny smile, the statement a lie. I knew exactly why I loved him.

He scoffed. "There is no beauty in not knowing."

"Maybe not to you." I said.

We stood there longer before I became bold, and reached out to grab his hand, giving it a little squeeze, which he returned.

"Would you consider coming back up?" He asked. "To live here? Whenever you're ready, of course. I understand if you don't completely forgive me, or…" He trailed off.

"Of course I'll come back up here." I said with a small laugh.

we were silent again, longer this time, playing with each other's fingers, his seeming massive compared to my tiny ones.

"Oh, god." He groaned. "I can't believe I said all of that. It sounded so…"

"Romantic?"

"I was going to go for crummy." I laughed. "But I guess it was romantic. To you anyway."

"It was very romantic to me."

"Good." He said. "I still can't believe I said it."

"Love makes people do strange things." I said, looking up at him as he rolled his eyes.

"Maybe you _do_ need to live with Mrs. Hudson." I laughed again. "You both use sayings that _everyone_ knows."

"Sorry." I said. "It's all I know."

"You need to get out more." He commented.

"Yes, I do."

He smiled down at me, and I grinned up at him, as he closed the gap between us, pressing his lips to mine.

* * *

I woke up, expecting to see the bright walls of Mrs. Hudson's flat, but what I saw instead made me smile.

Sherlock was still asleep, the blankets wrapped around his shoulder, his face smushed into the pillow, causing me to giggle, quietly so he wouldn't wake up.

We had painted a little, only getting a couple of walls done before Mrs. Hudson was home. Afterwards, we brought all of my clothes and toiletries I had packed to Mrs. Hudson's during my stay back up to the flat, putting them back in their place, before going to bed.

I closed my eyes again, trying to go back to sleep, but to no avail.

When I opened my eyes again, Sherlock's were just opening as well, looking at me.

"Good morning." He said groggily.  
"'Mornin'." I yawned, stretching my legs underneath the blankets.

"Sleep well?"

"Mmhmm. You?" I asked him, relaxing back into the bed.

"Fine."

"That's good." I said, closing my eyes. I heard the front door open and shut again, and I looked to Sherlock. "Someone's here." I announced.

"You don't say."  
He rose from the bed, changing from his pajamas and putting on some regular clothes. I followed him into the living room, not bothering to change, knowing those footsteps anywhere.

"Morning Sherlock." I heard John say. I came into view as John was putting some bags on the table-groceries.

"Morning Elizabeth." He said, going about his business at first, then stopping and turning back around. "Elizabeth?" He said, surprised. "Did you guys get everything worked out?" John asked.

"Yup." Sherlock answered. "We had a little chat yesterday afternoon while you were out."

John nodded, slowly at first. "Alright." he smiled. "Alright." he repeated. "Good, so, you're moving back in, right?" He asked me.

"Yup."

"Great." he beamed.

**I didn't know where to end this, so it's stopping here.**

**So I watched the whole first season of Game of Thrones, and need a little rant….**

**(spoilers ahead!)**

**What...the...actual heck! Does he end up killing everyone I love?  
I only like a few characters: Dany, Khal Drogo, Ned Stark, Robb Stark, Jon Snow, and Tyrion Lannister. All died in the first season, or will die in later seasons (i looked ahead. Hate myself for it…) except for two….. Why?**

**Just…..why?**

**I don't know what to feel now. I'm angry, and sad, but happy that at least two of them live, and I just can't…**

**So that's why it's taken me so long to update this chapter, because I was curled up underneath my blankets, crying for Khal Drogo, because that was the one that got me the most…**

**I'm angry.**

**So, I promised a contest.**

**And I shall deliver!**

**I might actually end up doing little things like this randomly, instead of adding it onto the birthday stuff. Tell me what you guys think.**

**Here it is:**

"**.25 - 25.15.21 - .12.4 - 19.5.5 - 13.5 - 9.14 - 1 - .14."**

**The first person who breaks the code gets to either:**

**1-give the main plot for the next chapter, or give another side story to add **

**2-gets a sneak peak into the next chapter **

**or**

**3-gets to write a scene for the next chapter, or the whole next chapter (which has actually been done before, and was really cool.)**

**The winner gets to pick from those three, or they can come up with one of their own if they want.**

_**Hint:**_ **Don't make it harder than it has to be-this one is very simple, and is one of my favorite lines from Moriarty :) Think numbers and letters.**

**Also, the - between numbers is just a space between words.**

**Anyway, reviews!**

_**Great chapter, can't wait for your next update.**_

**~wolviegurl**

**Thank you, dear. I hope you like this chapter as well!**

**I think that's it…**

**I'll catch you later (hopefully there will be a quicker update than last time!)**

_**My sword is yours, in victory and defeat, from this day, until my last day**_

_**-Theon Greyjoy**_

_**~Eruaphadriel**_


	26. Chapter 26

**Hey guys!  
So, contest details are below, we have a winner!**

**Second place will get something as well! ( I forgot to mention that last time)**

**I have a short story to tell, kind of embarrassing ,to be honest, but it was also a glorious moment!  
A few years ago, I was listening to music via iPod, and i was laying down, but when I got up, I noticed I couldn't hear anything anymore. Confused, I looked down at my earbuds, and they had come out of the iPod. not paying too much attention, I tried plugging them back in, but it wouldn't work. Why? Because my earbuds were crap and the metal piece at the end of the earbuds? Yeah, it broke. And I had no way of getting it out. In a state of panic, I destroyed YouTube trying to find a way to get them out, and all of them involved superglue in some way. I chose one, and did exactly what I was supposed to do, and I ended up supergluing the earbud piece into my iPod. FML.**

**I still used my iPod for apps and games, but never tried again to get the piece out...until last night.**

**My iPod screen is shattered to pieces. I mean, people look at it, and have actually told me it scares them. It is so cracked it is the stuff of nightmares. (I dropped it on my grandmother's concrete floor….oops.), So while I was digging in the earbud jack to get the piece out, I noticed a broken piece of the screen was poking up while I was digging, and I lifted it, took some pliers, and get that sucker out!**

**I'm pretty proud of myself.**

**Anyway, that's all. just thought I would share that bit of information with you guys!**

**(Also, I am deleting a lot of internet history, or else my family would think I'm getting married some time soon ;) **

**And I never knew how stressful wedding planning was...and this isn't even my wedding. It's a fictional wedding...it's NOT REAL, and I'm stressing. But I'm going all out, because while it's stressful, it's fun, and I'm making my own pinterest board for my wedding wishes….*sigh***

"Mrs. Hudson, he will kill you." I said from Sherlock's chair, while Mrs. Hudson sat in John's.

"It will be fun."

"He won't be happy."

She huffed.

Sherlock had been gone for a while, on a case in Karachi. That morning he had called, saying the case was over and he was no his way home. I was ecstatic, and when Mrs. Hudson heard the news, she was too, planning a little welcome home party, which I was trying to avoid.

The door opened and closed quickly, and someone ran up the stairs. I leaned in the chair, over the arm, to see who it was, my lips turning up in a smile when I saw Sherlock coming back, his luggage swung over his shoulder. I rose from the chair.

Mrs. Hudson was the first to reach him, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck as he bent down to put his bag on the floor. He responded with a grunt, wrapping his free arm around her shoulders, before letting it drop, annoyed, making me giggle.

I followed after her, standing on my tiptoes and hugging his neck as soon as he was standing to full height again.

"I was only gone for a week and a half!" he exclaimed, before returning the hug.

When I released him, I felt a hand on my shoulder push me away, and John went to hug Sherlock, too, but he held up a hand.

"No." Sherlock said. I saw John's shoulders shake, his arms still outstretched, as he took a step closer to Sherlock, who took one step back. "John." He said, sternly. "I will hug Mrs. Hudson, and I will hug my fiancee, but I am not going to hug you."

John dropped his arms, laughing, as Sherlock went to get unpacked.

"So, the wedding's back on too, then." John said. I nodded.

"Yes, why wouldn't it be?"

"Well, I just didn't know." he shrugged, but Mrs. Hudson gasped.

"Oh have you made any plans yet, Elizabeth?"

"No, not yet." I shook my head.

"Why not-we could do it today!" She exclaimed.

"Do what today?" Sherlock asked, walking back into the room.

"Wedding planning." John answered. We all turned to him.

"We can't plan it without you."

He seemed a bit reluctant, and I couldn't blame him, and almost wished he had made other plans, like dinner, or something. I was nervous about wedding planning, to be honest. I knew I had to, we couldn't stay engaged forever, we would have to get married at some point, but I was scared.

"Oh, come on, Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson begged.

"Fine." He said. Mrs. H clapped her hands, excitedly, while John went to get his laptop. Sherlock and I stood in the middle of the living room, unsure of what to do.

"Did you have fun?" I asked, trying to make conversation. He nodded.

"Yes, I did. Took longer than I expected."

John came down with his laptop, and Mrs. Hudson came up with some magazines she said a friend of hers had been saving for her daughter, and allowed Mrs. Hudson to borrow when she told her the news.

I searched, and searched, looking through pages and pages of magazines, trying to find a dress, while Sherlock and John talked about the venue.

"What about Wilton's Music Hall?" John asked. I shrugged.

"May be nice." I commented, while John typed into the computer. "What do you think?" I asked Sherlock. I was careful to keep the magazine facing away from him, and Mrs. Hudson kept a careful eye on it aswell.

"We'll have to see."

John turned the laptop towards us, and I shrugged again. It was nice, but I wasn't very fond.

"Meh." I said, leaning back, flipping the page, and making a sour face, as I did with almost all of these dresses.

"Alright, what about the Royal Exchange?"

Another no-go.

"What about St. Stephen's Hampstead?" Sherlock said, turning his phone so I could see. I put the magazine down (face down, of course), to get a better look.

"Yeah. I actually really like this one." I nodded, scrolling through some of the pictures. "This one. That's what I want." I nodded with a smile, glad that I was finally able to make a decision. I felt like we just made a huge dent in something almost unbreakable.

Sadly, I never found a wedding dress in the magazines, but Mom had been pestering me about a day out, looking for dresses (since our last one had been cancelled). I invited Molly, and Mrs. Hudson, and Sarah, even though her and John weren't together anymore. John didn't seem to mind us being friends, though, which I was happy about. I never asked why they split, and I didn't want to know, but John assured me it was on good terms.

I threw the last magazine down and sighed, resting my head against Sherlock's shoulder as he was still scrolling through pictures of St. Stephen's.

"Nothing?" He asked, no looking up. I shook my head.

"Nope. They're either too poofy, or too skinny, or have too much lace, or no lace at all, or their too short or too long."

"Sounds like you may have to find a tailor." He said.

"I hope not. Too lazy to do all of that stuff." He chuckled. "We're going shopping for one sometime. Maybe I'll find one them."  
"Maybe." He repeated.

"Hopefully."

* * *

We decided to walk most of the way to the bridal shop, Mom leading the way along with Mrs, Hudson (The two got along beautifully), with Sarah on one side, and Molly to my left.

"Nervous?" Sarah asked ,wrapping her arm around mine, a small smile on her lips.

"Yeah." I said with a breath of a laugh.

"I'm sure you'll look lovely in anything you wear, Elizabeth." Molly said, trying to ease my nerves.

"Thanks."

We walked into the bridal shop and was attacked by a clerk, demanding to know who the bride was. Molly and Sarah pushed me forward, and as soon as they did so, the woman looked me up and down. I felt exposed, so I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Alright." Was all she said, before taking my arm and ushering me to the back. "Wait here." And she left.

"I thought I was going to look around." I whispered to Molly. She nodded, but then shrugged.

"Guess not." She said. "This'll be fun with her."

"Tell me about it."

The clerk came back with dresses draped over her arm, each one of them absolutely horrendous, but I tried them on anyway.

"I feel like a-" Mom sent me a look. "-I feel very indecent." I said, adjusting the skin tight dress, hurrying to the back to take it off. That was the last one she picked.

When I walked out without a new dress, mom sighed.

"Elizabeth." She said, exasperated.

"I didn't like any of them."

"You never like any of them."

"Do you mind if I look around?" I asked the clerk, ignoring my mother. She smiled and nodded, showing me where she thinks would be best for me. I thanked her, and began to look.

"What about this one?" Sarah asked, suggestively, pulling one from the rack.

"That's not real." I said, causing Sarah to laugh. "I refuse to believe someone would actually buy that and wear it for their wedding day."

"I don't think it's for the wedding _day."_

"Oh, gosh, Sarah." I whined, causing her to laugh harder.

We spent 15 minutes searching before I had enough.

"You know what." I said to myself, picking up the first five I saw, and walking back to the dressing room, and confused Sarah and Molly in tow.

I tried the first three, which were awful, and walked out with the first one.

"This!" I yelled as I walked out. My voice echoed through the store, causing some confused looks from other shoppers, but I didn't care. "This one. I want this one." I smiled.

"That's beautiful!" Molly exclaimed, placing a hand over her mouth. I jumped, unable to contain my excitement.

It had quarter length, lace, off the shoulder, sleeves, with lace going across my chest, a solid white underneath with a sweetheart neckline. The lace went all the way down the bodice , and straight down, while solid white puffed out from the sides, lace designs lining the bottom. The white, though, wasn't too poofy, and the amount of lace was just right.

Mom took a picture on her phone, and I asked Molly to do the same on mine, before we looked at the price.

"We can't afford this." Mom said, her facing dropping. I smiled.  
"You can't, but I know man who can." I pulled out a credit card from my purse. "Mycroft gave this to my earlier this morning. When he heard the news, he designated himself the wedding planner." I said with a laugh. "He told me the dress, lunch, and anything else we needed was on him."

We paid for the dress, and decided, since Mycroft was buying, to eat lunch at a small yet fancy restaurant a few blocks away.

I got back to the flat before John and Sherlock did. John drug Sherlock out of the house to get a new tux, saying his old one just wouldn't do. Sherlock wasn't entirely upset about it, but he was still a bit reluctant to go.

I quickly put my dress in John's room, instead of mine and Sherlock's, and hurried back down the stairs, getting to the bottom and soon as Sherlock and John were coming up.

"Have fun?" I asked.

I heard two different answers-a 'No' from Sherlock, and a 'Kind of' from John.

"Did you?" John asked. "FInd a dress."

"I did." I beamed. "Wanna see?"

"Absolutely." I led John to his room to show him.

"Elizabeth, that is gorgeous."

"Isn't it?"

"Try it on." And he left.

I modeled it for him, and he took a picture to send to Harry, who couldn't be there when we went shopping, sadly.

"So is everything done, then. Are we finished planning?" Sherlock asked.

"Not quite. Sorry love." I said, plopping down on the couch next to him.

"What else to we have to decide on?"

"Cake, date, guests, songs for the ceremony, decorations, photographer, entertainment, food, hotels for out-of-town guests, invitations, I have to look for bridesmaid dresses, florist, transportation, and the rings. Everything else we have covered."

He seemed lost, which was odd for him. "We have a lot to do."

"Oh, joy."

* * *

Everything was almost finished. Bridesmaid dresses? Check! Blue, silk dresses. We had a florist, a photographer, and cake (yummy red velvet!), a ringbearer, a flower girl, a hotel, decor.

We were ready to have a wedding.

I chose Molly to be my lovely maid of honour. I would have chosen Harry, but she declines, saying she didn't feel like she would do a very good job.

The bachelorette party aws nothing special, really. It felt like one giant sleepover with Sarah, Molly, and my sister, who they seemed to really like.

It was time for the rehearsal and dinner, the night before the wedding, and I was scared straight. The rehearsal ran smoothly, and for dinner, Sherlock's family paid for it all, as was the tradition, and the restaurant they decided to go to was extremely fancy. I felt underdressed, though Sherlock assured me I looked fine.

Dinner was over, but instead of going back home, mom had planned for Sarah, Molly, Harry and I as well as Sherlock's mother to come stay at Molly's house, seeing as she actually lived in London, and it was a lot closer to the venue.

"Try the dress on. Mrs. Holmes hasn't seen it." mom urged. Out of all of us, I think she was the most excited.

Mrs. Holmes' hand flew to her mouth, just as Molly's had at the shop.

"You look gorgeous." she said.

"Now what are we going to do with that hair?" mom asked. Mrs. Holmes let out a little laugh, moving behind me, taking bits of my hair, moving them around, telling mom what she thought could work.

"What do you think, Elizabeth?" Mom asked. She held her phone out to me to use as a mirror. My hair was up in a simple updo. I nodded.

"I like it." I said, pulling some of my bangs down to frame my face.

"Curl it a little." Mrs. Holmes suggested, and I nodded, liking the idea.

Everyone went to bed early, except for me. I had tried to sleep, honestly, but to no avail.

I walked to the kitchen to get some warm milk.

"Wedding jitters?" I heard someone ask from behind me. I almost dropped my glass, but chuckled a little at myself when I saw Mrs. Holmes.

"Yeah, I guess." I said, taking a drink of my milk. She smiled at me, gesturing to the kitchen table. I sat down across from her, and she took one of my hands in hers.

"It's only natural to be nervous, but there is nothing to be worried about, trust me. Mycroft wouldn't allow anything to go wrong." She said, seriously, and I giggled a little. If something were to go wrong, Mycroft would have a conniption. "You will look stunning." She continued. "There is nothing to be afraid of."

* * *

The next morning, at the church, Mom was busy fussing with me hair, and dress. I tried to shoo her off, tried to get her to check on the plans for the reception, but she refused to leave.

"Mom, it's fine." I said, dodging her hand as she reached out to smooth a curl.

"But it's-"

"Fine." I finished for her. "It's fine."

She gave us, her eyes teary, and a few tears and spilled over. "You look beautiful." She complimented as John and Sherlock's father walked in. Mr. Holmes was going to be walking me down the aisle, since John was the best man, and I was very happy about it, to be honest, and he seemed to be too.

I took one last look at myself in the mirror before I followed Mr. Holmes out. My hair was done in a simply updo, the one Mrs. Holmes had shown us last night, with the bangs falling from it. I didn't have much makeup, since I never wore much anyway, and it would probably run and get messy, like my hair will. The dress still fit perfectly, better, I think, than it did at the shop. I didn't look like Elizabeth Watson. I looked like a queen.

Mr. Holmes had his arm held out for me, and I smiled at him, looping mine around his, and he placed his other hand on top of mine, reminding me to take a deep breath and relax. I thanked him for his advice, and smiled as the doors opened and everyone stood.

**Cliffhanger!**

**I was stressing out about this whole thing, and I like the plans I made for this chapter.**

**So, of course, I did a whole bunch of research and digging, and everything mentioned in this chapter has a reference, which I will post the links for, if you're interested:  
**Bridesmaid dresses:

blue-bridesmaid-dresses-for-elegant-new-style/short-royal-blue-bridesmaid-dress-design/

Elizabeth's Dress:

. 

Hair reference:

romantic-bridal-updos-wedding-hairstyles/2/

(When you hit 'Next', it is the first one you see (with the brown hair)

Venue:

. 

**I did a lot more digging, but those were the final decisions.**

**And can I just say something about Amelia Sposa wedding dresses? One word: Wow! **

**They are all stunning! I couldn't choose one, and the last two that I came down to, out of the other 13 dresses I had picked, were both Amelia Sposa. Amazing dresses, but probably cost money out of the wazoo.**

**So, We have a winner! And our winner is**

***Drumroll***

**CheckAlexa !**

**Thank you for your review, my dear, and I'm glad you liked the chapter! I have seen thousands of stories that portray Irene as evil, like you said, and I don't think she is, so I decided to do something different, and I really like the way it turned out, and I'm glad you liked it as well! And fan fiction has a way of deleting a lot. I wouldn't be surprised if I get a lot of reviews saying the links are bad because a lot of the letters have been deleted, or the link have been deleted all together. It's very frustrating, but ah well. What can you do?**

**Thank you, again, for the review, and pick your prize out of the three, if you would like! You are more than welcome to PM me your decision, or include it in a review (the options are posted again at the end of the chapter)**

**Reviews:  
****-**

**The motto for the Game of Thornes fandom is as follow: Don't get attached, they will probably die.**

**~Dream I Dare**

**That's going to be tough for me, because I get attached very easily. *sigh***

**If Tyrion of Daenerys die, though, I am going to riot. **

**And that's all I have. I also wanted to announce the second place, Nott01, who PM'd me their answer. You can also choose from the list, if you would like!**

**I don't think I have anything else to say, other than I'll catch you guys later!**

**~Eruaphadriel**


	27. Chapter 27

**Want to give a quick little shout out to CheckAlexa, who helped with the idea for this chapter. Thank you, doll.**

**AND Happy late birthday to the one and only Martin Freeman!**

**So, I was thinking, if I were to start something, like a Google Site, or google circle, or a Twitter for writing, like updates, sneak peeks, and maybe an easier way to communicate with you guys, and for you guy to talk to each other, would you guys be interested? if not, that's totally cool with me, I just thought, maybe it would be easier to spread news and ideas, and respond to reviews instead of putting them in author's notes.**

**Or maybe go farther, and for those who like reading, share book suggestions, and reviews, and have discussions. I don't know, I just think that would be cool.**

**Just tell me if you guys are interested :) **

_Two weeks earlier:_

"And you're _sure_ we sent an invite to Gavin?"

"Greg." I corrected.  
"Whatever." I chuckled a little.

"Yes, Sherlock. I am positive we sent one to him." I said, trying to calm him. Sherlock was pacing back and forth, thinking, asking about different guests.

I had been getting calls, letters, and texts all morning, people RSVP-ing, and other apologies, which were expected.

"Mike?"  
"Yes, Sherlock!" I said, becoming frustrated. "He's already RSVP'd." I reminded. I told him earlier this morning.

He finally sat down across from me in his chair.

"Okay." He murmured. I stared at him for a minute, before letting out a sigh, and going back to my work.

John struggled up the stairs, grocery bags in one hand, a box in the other.

"Addressed to you." He said, holding the box out towards me, but I waved a hand.

"I'll open it later."

"Probably another gift." Sherlock suggested.

"Probably." I yawned. It was early in the afternoon, but with all of the planning, and sorting, I was exhausted, and, honestly, ready for all of this to be over. I just wanted to be married already.

Some days I think we should have gone with Sherlock's suggestion-just sign a marriage license, and go on vacation.

"Elizabeth, are you listening?" John asked. I turned to him.  
"Apparently not." he mumbled, going back to his work.

"What did you want?" I asked.

"I told you that we had that cake...thing next week." Sherlock spoke up. I settled back down in the chair, and closed my eyes with a sigh. Tomorrow was going to be a long day…

* * *

The next morning, I woke up, and Sherlock was gone, leaving a note on his side of the bed, saying he was going for a walk at the park, and wondered if I would join him later on.

I got dressed, and sent a text, saying I was on my way, before heading towards the park, deciding to be lazy and take a cab there.

I paid the cabbie, and walked to the sidewalk in the park before realising I had no idea where he was.

Instead of texting him again, though, I decided to walk until I found him. It would take longer, but it was a nice day, not too hot, not too cold, and it was gorgeous outside, so a little walking on a day like this wouldn't hurt a bit.

I paid attention to my surroundings. An older gentleman was walking his dog, his wife holding onto his arm as they walked, both smiling, obviously enjoying the day as well, while a little girl flew a kite a few yards away, her father behind her, helping her fly it. I smiled at them as I passed, and the little girl grinned back, a toothless grin, before she pointed at something on the ground in front of me.

I stopped to look, lifting my foot to find a white feather, and several others scattered along the sidewalk, and she walked closer to look at it.

"Pretty."She commented, quietly, staring at the feathers in wonder, before plucking one from the ground and running to her dad, showing him.

I sent her one last smile, and waved back at her father, before continuing on, being careful not to step on any of the feathers.

I finally found Sherlock sitting on a bench, a bag of what seemed to be food sitting beside him. he was typing feverishly on his phone, but looked up when I got closer, putting it back in his pocket.

"Hey." I greeted, sitting down beside him. He pulled two sub sandwiches from the bag, and handed one to me.

We ate out lunch (or, breakfast, really, for me) in silence.

"Did you see all of those feathers?" I asked. Sherlock looked confused and shook his head.

"No, what feathers?"

"There were a ton of them other there. White ones." I pointed down the path.

"Hm." He hummed. "Must have missed them."

"Must have." I agreed, finishing my sandwich, dumping the wrapper into the now empty bag. Sherlock did the same, throwing the bag in a nearby trash can, and we walked back the way we came.

The feathers were gone by the time we walked back through, all but one, which sat in the grass now, the wind blowing it from the path. I only stared at it, not picking it up or pointing it out, as we walked.

* * *

"All of that, just to decide on a plain, red velvet cake with white icing." I groaned. I liked cake, I loved cake, but there was only so much I could take…

We had tried thirteen different cakes, each almost tasting the exact same as the last one. My stomach was stuffed to the point it was almost painful, and I could tell by Sherlock's expression he was uncomfortable as well.

The cabbie had looked back, worriedly a few times, almost like he was expecting us to vomit.

...I wasn't too far from it.

Sherlock only moaned in response, his eyes closed.

We stumbled up the stairs to the flat, and I collapsed into John's chair immediately, while Sherlock took the shorter route, going to the couch.

I looked over to the table to find a box, the one I hadn't opened yesterday.

"Haven't opened it yet?" He wondered. I shook my head.

"I completely forgot about it." I reached down and grabbed it, setting it in my lap before tearing the tape off, and opening it.

Inside of the box, sat another box, this one much more beautiful and ornate, and not made of cardboard.

"Wow." I whispered, picking it up, turning it a flipping it, getting a better look.

I opened the lid to get a better look, but instead of a hollow pace, it was full of gold fabric.

I pulled it out of the box, putting the box by my feet, before standing and holding the fabric out, readjusting it.

"Wow." I repeated. Sherlock cracked an eye open, and rose to sit up.

"Who sent that?" He asked.

"No idea." I folded the dress, and sat back down, putting the dress in my lap and picking the box up.

"Doesn't have a name?"

"It just says _Love R.B_. with a sun behind it. Who's R.B.?" I asked, looking at Sherlock, hoping he would know. He only shrugged.

I held the dress out again, so Sherlock could see it properly.

"Looks like it would fit." I mumbled. Sherlock nodded.

"Maybe."

I contemplated trying it on, but decided against it, putting the dress back in the box.

* * *

The next week was hectic. We had to hire a photographer, and a caterer, but so far, there were no photographers that we liked, and no caterers were available that day.

"Another gift." John sighed, placing it on the table. Sherlock and I never looked up from the computer screen.

"Cool. I'll look at it in a minute." I announced, scrolling through pictures.

"That one's nice." Sherlock said, pointing to one of the pictures. I shrugged.

"It's alright." I agreed.

"Still haven't found one?" John asked. We shook our heads.

"Nope."

"Why not ask Mycroft."

I sighed and slammed my hands down on the table, and Sherlock groaned from behind me.

"Why didn't we think about that sooner?"

Mycroft was actually ecstatic when we told him we were getting married, though he didn't show it outwardly until we actually talked about wedding planning. Then, he decided he would do anything and everything (and we mean anything) to help.

Mycroft secretly loves to plan weddings. Sherlock said it was because he would never plan his own because women would never talk to him. I'm ashamed to say I agreed with him..

Sherlock grabbed his phone, and dialed Mycroft's number, telling him about the caterer and that we needed a photographer.

I heard Mycroft's voice over the phone, yelling for or at something, and then he hung up.

"Everything's covered." Sherlock said with a tiny smile.

"Great." I responded, reaching across the table for the new box, ripping off the tape, and opening it.  
"Is this an egg?" I pulled it from the box. It wasn't decorated in glass or painted. It looked like an Easter egg, one of the plastic ones you put candy in for kids, except this one was much larger than any I had seen before.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, taking it from my hands and turning it around in his. There was a faint line in the middle of the egg, and Sherlock twisted the top half, breaking the egg in half. Inside was a card, sitting on it's side, along with a piece of notebook paper.

I took the paper, and Sherlock took the card, starting at in in confusion, then looked at me, waiting for me to unfold the paper. I did so.

There was no name, on the paper (which only told us to show the card to some farmer miles away, and to be honest, I couldn't pronounce his name, and that the gifts they had sent, and will send, were mine to do whatever I wanted with, but nothing else apart from that. It was signed with the same initials as the other one had been. R.B.

"Oh, here's another piece." Sherlock said, pulling a tiny toy chicken from the bottom of the egg.

"Oh." I said, as he handed it to me to look at myself. "Lovely?" I said, though it came out as more of a question.

"Still have no idea who sent it?" John asked. We shook our heads.

"The only people who should know we're getting married are the people we invited, and maybe some of Mom's friends, but none of her friends have the initials R.B. I have no idea who it could be." I said.

"Hmm." John though. "What about, what's her name….uh, Robin!Yeah, Robin, Mom's coworker she goes out to dinner and lunch with all of the time? What's her last name?"  
"Kent." I said. He sighed.

"Oh well. Whoever it is, they'll reveal themselves sooner or later." Sherlock said.

I didn't view the gifts as important. Sure, the dress was expensive, but other than that, it wasn't worth anything-didn't have an important history or any historical value that was mentioned (and you would think someone would have mentioned it), and the letter said to do whatever I liked with the gifts I received the next two weeks.

Either way, it would be nice to thank them…

* * *

_The night before the wedding:_

I was terrified...

Mrs. Holmes had stayed up with me long after our talk had ended, and for the most part we were silent as I finished my milk, taking tiny sips as not to make myself sick to my stomach.

"Were you this nervous?" I asked her, and she smiled.

"Yes." She answered quietly.

"What did you do? To help your nerves?" I wondered, and her smile widened, chuckling a little bit.

She remained silent for a moment, as if she were thinking, and I waited patiently.

"I'll help you, and allow you to do what I did, as long as you promise not to tell anyone." She said, glancing to the spare bedroom where my mother was still sleeping in her cot. She pushed me towards the bed, saying I needed it more than she, and was going to sleep in the floor, when Molly pulled a cot from the closet.

"What did you do?" I asked.

"Get your coat." She smiled.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Holmes was helping my sneak past Sarah, who was on the couch, and out of the door, hailing a cab for me. I told him the address, as Mrs. Holmes went back inside, smiling from the door as the cabbie drove off.

He pulled up, and I ran out, paying him quickly, telling him to keep the change.

"Isn't it some kind of tradition for the bride and groom not to see each other before the wedding?" I heard a familiar voice ask. I spun around, eyes wide. Irene was standing on the sidewalk, covered in a large coat, though it wasn't cold outside at all.

"Irene?" I asked, making sure it was actually her. She smiled.

"Elizabeth. Nice to see you again."  
"I thought you were in America. Some sort of witness protection…"I trailed off, but she didn't answer. Instead, she dodged the question.

"Why are you here?" She asked.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"Your wedding of course. Did you think I was going to miss it?"

"I didn't know you knew." I said. She only shrugged.

"So why are you here?" She asked again. "To see your soon-to-be-husband, I assume. Surely your mother didn't let you leave anything behind."

I chuckled, because it was true, and didn't think too hard about how she could have known.

I didn't answer.

"How are you?" I asked, sincerely, hoping she was well.

"I'm...alright. Money's a bit...you know. I'm as rich as I can be while in hiding."

I thought for a second.

"I've been pawning things until I can get back on my feet again, properly."

"I have something." I said, suddenly. She looked at me, confused. "Something you might be able to use, but, for it, you can tell no one I was here."

"Aww, dear, how did you know exactly what I was going to do?" She said, jokingly. I let out a breath of a laugh.

"Hold on just a moment." I said, and ran inside after I was sure she was going to stick around.

I ran up the stairs at lightning speed, but made sure to be as quiet as possible, so no one knew I was there, and I wouldn't wake anybody up, if they were asleep. I knew Lestrade and Mr. Holmes would be here along with John, but other than that, no one else. John would have taken his bed, and Sherlock his, leaving someone on the couch, and someone else, so instead of going through the living room door, I went through the kitchen, peeking into the living room quickly, making sure no one saw me.

The box was sitting on the table still, Sherlock and I too busy to think about cleaning and moving it to the bedroom, so I snuck to John's chair to retrieve it, making sure not to hit Lestrade, who was snoring quietly in the chair.

I ran back downstairs with it, going outside, and holding it out to Irene.

"I have no idea how much it's worth, or who sent it to me, but it's yours." I said. She took it, almost hesitantly.

"Why are you helping me?" She asked. I shrugged.

"Why not?"

She opened the box, revealing the golden dress.

"Thank you." She smiled, and I did the same, saying my goodbyes, and running back inside.

I went quietly up the stairs again, this time, heading for the bedroom.

I opened the door, slowly, expecting Sherlock to still be awake, reading, or to be working on music, somehow without his violin (which I never knew how he managed), r to be typing away on his phone, but instead the room was dark, only lit by the lamp on my side of the bed, and Sherlock was on his, sleeping soundly, the sheets falling off of the bed.

I laughed silently, before walking into the room, taking the sheet, and fixing it, pulling it back up, to his chin. He stirred, but didn't wake up, and I placed a quick kiss to his forehead, before sneaking back out.

* * *

My visit didn't help much. The plan was to talk to him, and maybe that would help calm some of my nerves, but it did help some. As soon as I was let back into Molly's flat, thanks to Mrs. Holmes, I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, whereas before, I couldn't even keep my eyes closed.

The next morning, I was just as nervous as before. Mom and Mrs Holmes thought it would be better to do my makeup, and get dressed at the church, so as soon as we finished breakfast, we were off, me in my pajamas, while everyone else was dressed and ready.

Sarah and Molly had just finished my makeup, and Mrs. Holmes was working on my hair. The other two girls left us alone in the room.

"So," Mrs. Holmes said. "I never got the chance to ask you if you felt any better last night. Did you get to talk to him?"

I shook my head. "No, he was asleep." I said. She only hummed, and took one of my hands. "You're still shaking." She said, with a laugh. I laughed as well, my voice wavering.

"You know, he's probably already dressed." She said. "And I won't say anything." I looked up at her and smiled. As soon as she put the last pin in my hair, I jumped from the chair, and snuck out of the door, making sure no one saw me as I made my way across the church.

"Again." I turned around to find Irene, dressed in what I gave her last night. "It was one of the nicest things I had. Thank you. I would have worn the dress you had given me before, but it wasn't as nice, no offence."

"None taken. You look lovely." I complimented. Remembering, I pulled the card out of my pocket, one of the ones that was given by R.B. that I had planned to ask about during the reception.

"I have no idea what it is, but it might help." I said, more as a question. Irene looked at it and smiled.

"It might." She said. "I'll keep quiet."

I smiled, thanked her, and ran to the room where Sherlock was getting ready, peeking in to make sure John or his father wasn't in there. When I saw that the weren't, I ran in, trying to go unnoticed to surprise him, but it didn't work. It never worked.

"Good morning. Isn't it one of those silly wedding tradition things that we shouldn't see each other."

"I'm not in my dress yet, so it doesn't completely count. To me, anyway.' I shrugged a shoulder. He turned around and looked at me.

"Good. I was worried you were going out like that." He said, and I looked down at my apparel. I had changed from my pajamas, and now was in only a robe and socks that reached my knees.

They were fuzzy!

"Sadly mom wouldn't let me." I joked, and he chuckled a little, but his smile turning into a frown. He stopped messing with his tie to turn around completely.

"Are you alright?" He asked, concerned. I nodded, but he didn't seem convinced.

"Nervous." I answered. He only nodded, and I took my chance, running up and wrapping my arms around his torso.

"Are you sure you're alright?" He asked with a chuckle, and I nodded, as he placed his hands on my shoulder, leaning down as much as he could to whisper in my ear.

"As much as I would like for you to stay, your brother will be back any minute now, and I am sure your mother will be going insane if she can't find you, and I don't want either one of us getting in trouble."

* * *

As soon as I was in my dress, my mother was bawling, and Mrs. Hudson began to tear up as well. I knew, if I stuck around, I wouldn't be too far behind them.

Harry saw my discomfort, and helped me get ready instead, shooing the two crying women out.

"Come on." She said, holding out a hand. Mom had me standing up on a stool, since I was a lot shorter than she was, so that she could help button the dress. I hoisted the dress up as best as I could, and got down, Harry holding my elbow so I wouldn't fall.

"Where are they?" She asked.

"What?"

"Your shoes?"

I sighed, and pointed to the corner. I really hadn't planned on wearing them.

She brought them to me, and helped put them on, when Mom came back into the room, beginning to fuss about me again.

* * *

"Mr. Holmes?" I asked as he was leading me out of the room. He stopped walking,and I bent over, pulling my ankle up, using Sherlock's father for support.

"What are you doing?" He asked, and I pulled off a shoe, using my foot to pull the other one off by the heel. He smiled, and I heard him chuckle.

"Going down the aisle barefoot?" He asked, and I nodded, proudly.

"Yup."I said, kicking the shoes to the side. They hit the hall and tumbled over, but I couldn't care less. I hated them.

He chuckled again, as we began to walk. I was only slightly shorter, and mom noticed, but couldn't say a word because she was already walking out. I only waved and smiled. It was _my _wedding day.

* * *

**As I expected, I cried. So hard, I was almost unable to say my vows. Sherlock would glare at me throughout the ceremony for crying, which only caused me to giggle, more than usual, due to nerves. My giggling would cause the priest to glare at me as well, and I would try to repress them afterwards, but to no avail. I was a mess.**

We waited outside of the church while some others were preparing for the reception, setting out tables and food, while we were receiving hugs and kisses from most of the guests, all of them congratulating us, and it got a bit tiring. Appreciated, but exhausting.

The photographer Mycroft had hired was exceptional. He was creative, and definitely knew what he was doing. The pictures we took were different from others, though, which I liked. A lot of them were silly and fun, and the more serious ones were nothing short of beautiful.

I was going to _beg_ to let Sherlock put at least one of them up on the wall. They were gorgeous.

And so was the reception.

White, round tables were scattered around the room, with blue table decorations. There was a tale up front with eight chairs overlooking all of the others, and another table to the side adorned with different finger foods, and a cake with white icing and blue birds, and a cake topper that we found a week before at a little shop a few blocks away. We originally weren't going to add a cake topper on, but as soon as we saw this one, we changed our minds.

They were silhouettes of a bride and groom, the bride in what seemed to be a large ballgown, and the groom exceptionally taller than she, leaning down to kiss her forehead. Underneath, in decorative, cursive letters, it said "Mr and Mrs. Holmes" the last name underneath larger than the rest of the letters, in all caps, whereas everything else had been lowercase.

Everyone else, who hadn't been involved in pictures, were already sitting down, and Sherlock and I snuck to our seats.

"You walked down the aisle. Barefoot." Mom said, leaning to look around Molly, who was sitting to my right. I nodded.

"Yeah."

"Where are your shoes?" She asked.

"I don't know."

"Elizabeth Jane Watso-" She stopped herself, her face going from one of anger and exasperation, to as if she had been punched in the gut. "Holmes." She corrected, blinking a couple of times. I waited for her to continue. "Elizabeth Holmes." She said with a smile, and I saw Molly smile as well from the corner of my eye, placing a hand on my shoulder.

We decided, instead of having menus, like Mom suggested, we would do a buffet. Much easier and a lot less work (which was a relief), but I wasn't very hungry.

"You need to eat something, dear." Mom begged, but I shook my head.

"Want me to make you a plate?" Sherlock asked. I thought about it.

"Maybe something small." I decided. Maybe it was the day, or he was just feeling generous, which happened on occasion, but I wasn't going to turn him down. He smiled a little, before going to the buffet, meeting with Lestrade on the way.

And then there was one.

I was the only one left at the large table for eight (even though we only had seven), and it was awkward, and uncomfortable.

I should have gotten up and gone with him. Now I just see, lazy and rude to the other guests.

"Beautiful wedding." Sarah said, leaning against the table.

"It was. Better than I thought."  
"You not going to eat?" She asked. I nodded.

"Yeah, Sherlock's ,making me a plate." She smiled.

"Aww, that's nice of him." I nodded in agreement. "So, where's the honeymoon?" She asked, and became a deer in headlights. I had no clue.

Sherlock had mentioned it, I think, if I remember correctly, and I remember him and John reminding me to pack, and I did, but I had no clue where we were going.

Instead of speaking, I shrugged.

"Oh." She said, her smile widening. She glanced over, and her smile fell, as she placed a hand on my shoulder. "Well, I better go eat, I'll talk to you later, yeah?" I nodded, and she left.

I looked behind me, where she was looking, and saw John going back to his seat, sending a friendly smile her way, which she returned, but afterwards, she walked faster.

"She has been avoiding me like the plague." John said.

"I'm sorry."

"It was nothing you did."

"Yes it was." I argued. "We became friends, and I invited her." He only glared at me.

"Elizabeth, it was nothing you did." He said. "To be honest, I am kind of glad."

"Really?" I asked, surprised. He thought about it and shrugged a shoulder.

"Yeah, in a way." He said. "Wouldn't you be?"

I looked back out at the crowd, picking out people I knew, and people I had been introduced to on Sherlock's side, trying to challenge myself and remember their names. I was doing good

so far.

_Sharon...Luke...Amelia...Lucy...Tony...who's he?_

I had made my way to the back of the room, knowing that I had counted everyone, but there was someone in the back I didn't recognize. He had his head turned slightly, away from me, but I could see the side of his face. He seemed oddly familiar, but I couldn't place him. I began to look at the table, seeing who he was sitting around, maybe that could be a clue, but the only person there was Irene, and one of John's old friends that had been like a brother to me, and David, who I was excited to see again.

David and I locked eyes, and i moved mine to the guy with a questioning look, but David only shrugged. I attempted to ask Irene, but she didn't see me.

As soon as I thought I was getting close to the answer, a plate of food was placed in front of me.

"Here you are." Sherlock said, a few pieces of sushi on the plate. We weren't sure why we went with sushi, but nothing else was working. Chicken and potatoes was just too ordinary, and somewhat messy (yay, grease up your new dress, and nice tux? No.), but everything else seemed so silly.

I scarfed the sushi down, and wanted more, but I made no move to get any.

John made his toast first, and everyone stayed silent to listen as he read the telegrams, and continued with his speech.

He explained how he and Sherlock met through Mike Stamford, who beamed from his seat at the mention of his name, and about their first case together (though he didn't spend a lot of time on that).

He told everyone about Sherlock's strange habits, some got laughs, others...not so much.

John told a few of a hundred comical stories about Sherlock, things that the newspapers and the reporters left out, which caused a roar of laughter from the crowd. John waited for them to die down a little, before becoming serious again.

"Sherlock is," he paused, thinking. Sherlock looked up and glared at him, and a few people caught on, giggling quietly. John chuckled a little himself, before continuing. "Sherlock is arrogant, rude, narcissistic, incredibly sarcastic, has absolutely no tact, the list goes on forever, but honestly" he paused. "Honestly, I don't think anyone could ever ask for a better friend, "He glanced at us both, "husband,"

Someone shouted from the crowd. "Future father," John pointed towards the crowd as everyone else laughed.

"Let us not talk about those things." he said angrily. "Listen, I'm just getting over the fact that they're getting married, let's not talk about kids right now. Okay?" Everyone laughed as he looked down at the table and sighed, not amused, but I couldn't tell if he was faking, or actually serious. "Alright, you have made me upset, thanks Mike." He said, glaring at his friend, who had shouted out. "Alright, I'm done." He mumbled. "Ladies and gentlemen, pray charge your glasses and be upstanding." He said, grabbing his glass, as everyone else did, and stood from their seats. "To the bride and groom." he said loudly, his voice cracking a little.

"To the bride and groom."

We cut the cake shortly after, and while I had thought Sherlock was mature, and serious, he decided to shove the cake in my face, cake going up my nose, and only a little actually got in my mouth. I heard everyone laugh as I sighed, a smile spreading across my face as well. When I wiped the cake from my eyes, and opened them, Sherlock was in front of me, smiling.

I waited for a second, thinking carefully, before throwing my piece at him, hitting him in the forehead. His smile fell real quick, yet everyone else laughed harder.

* * *

Sarah had gone to grab my bag, which had some more confortable clothes I could change into, while Sherlock got his himself, and put them in the trunk of the car, while I said the rest of my goodbyes.

Only mom was left, standing by the car, her eyes overflowing with tears, and she tried to wipe them away quickly, but it did little good.

I wrapped my arms around her as tightly as I possibly could.

"My little girl." She whispered with a chuckle. "Seems like yesterday when I was tucking you in at night, reading 'Lily and the Lion' for the hundredth time." I chuckled as well. i remember how I used to beg mom to read it, sometimes twice in the same night, before I went to bed. She grew to hate it, but I never did. In fact, I loved it more and more each night.

Though, the mention of the story made my stomach drop, and made me panic slightly, but I wasn't sure why.

That night, after I had gotten changed, and we were on our way to the airport, I leaned over to lay my head on the window and closed my eyes, asking Sherlock to wake me up when we got there.

I dreamt of Lily and the Lion-of the rose her father got her, the lion-prince she fell in love with, and he dove he became, the beautiful golden dress given to her by the sun, the hen and twelve chickens made from pure gold she received from the moon. Both gifts she had given to the princess,who had put a spell on the prince to forget Lily altogether to spend a few moments with her prince, once when he was sleeping, and the second time, he woke, remembering her again.

I shot up from window, just as he was reaching a hand over to wake me.

We locked eyes for a moment, not saying anything.

"Good morning." he said, and I smiled weakly.

We hadn't quite reached the airport yet.

"Have you ever heard that story?" I asked.

"What story?"  
"Lily and the Lion?" I asked. He thought for a moment.

"Ages ago."

I hummed, wondering if he would make the connection in a minute. I don't know why I didn't sooner.

"Why?" He asked. I took a deep breath.

"Well, don't you think it's odd?" I asked.

"What's odd?"  
"Those gifts? The ones we got in the mail? The dress, the egg, and then the pile of feathers at the park? White, dove feathers?"

His eyes widened, slightly. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well…" He thought for a second. "What do we do?"

"Nothing, I guess." I answered.

"Obviously not a coincidence between the whole story and…" He trailed off, and I nodded.

"Yeah, true." I said, before shrugging. "I don't really think it's a problem, necessarily. No, we don't know who sent it, but maybe it was just a silly joke." I said. "Maybe something leaked." He nodded.

As hard as we tried, somehow, with Sherlock's large reputation, our wedding hit newspapers….for a day.

Mycroft and Lestrade stopped that, thank goodness.

"Maybe." He agreed. "Perfectly harmless." He said, with a smile as he parked the car.

**This was a lot longer than I thought it would be, and I honestly meant to get the whole wedding done and over with in this chapter, but whoops.**

**The calm before the storm won't last long though ;) There were a lot of little clues...**

**And even though it was so long, I felt like parts of it were so rushed, but I can explain why...kind of.**

**I don't do weddings…**

**I have been to four weddings that I can partially remember.**

**The first being my aunt and uncle's wedding, and I don't remember most of it-just standing up there and being incredibly bored and uncomfortable (I was a flower girl).**

**My dad and stepmom's wedding, which, again, I don't remember a lot of. I do remember crying, though, and my step mom giving my sister and I a jewelry box, and then my grandmother taking us to her house afterwards because they were going on their honeymoon.**

**Then my mom and stepdads wedding, which is actually a really funny story. We had no idea what was going on. We were sure we were going to eat. Remind me to tell you guys sometime. **

**But it wasn't a proper, large wedding. no reception, no big party, they just said their vows, and we went home.**

**And my cousins wedding which was last year, I think, or maybe this year, and it was incredibly boring. I just showed up and paid no attention to everything that went on 'Behind the scenes' I guess you could say.**

**So I know nothing about weddings, or what's going on in the bride's head, but I kind of put myself in a bride's shoes, or if I was getting married, or just married, how I would think and feel, and went from there….**

**I did want to get something up for Labor Day though, so here ya are!**

**The links didn't work last time, so I am told, so here are the ones that should:**

**Elizabeth's dress: (14th picture and a few afterwards,** _**if**_ **the first **_**and **_**second link do not work)**

. /4727f60e0045e0ff27428e02a45ffde2/tumblr_ntyfc6wLac1qcpptho1_ 

pin/195273333821252835/

2015/08/22/amelia-sposa-2016-wedding-dresses-volume-2/

**Venue:**

Look up St. Stephen's Hampstead wedding, and it will come up immediately

**Reviews: (Some I answered in a PM already, so not all will be on here. Just the ones I haven't responded to.**

**Awesome chapter, more please.**

**wolviegurl**

**Thank you, dear! Hope this was alright! I honestly didn't mean for it to go on for 11 pages….**

**thanks again, and I hope you enjoy this chapter as well :)**

**Belladonna Took**

**OH MY GOD I AM SO SORRY I ABANDONED REVIEWING FOR LIKE FOUR WEEKS I AM SO SORRY but hello it is me, Belladonna Took :D **

**Okay.. PREPARE YOURSELF FOR A LONG REVIEW (after all, my trademark)... **

**The cliffhanger in this chapter is really annoying, and it feels weird that Elizalock are kind of finally marrying! It was weird to see Irene portrayed like that, because like you said, many fanfics kind of portray her as evil and not nice - and it was weird to see her portrayed as sort of nice was very strange and I'm not sure how big of a fan I was of it, to be honest XD **

**Coming back to this story made me realise how big of an emotional attachment I have to the characters.. that is a huge downside because of *cough* Reichenbach Fall. I am sort of stressing out about how Elizabeth will react.. e.e (I guess the secret there is not to get attached *cries*)**

**It's very strange seeing these sort of chapters in this fanfic - sort of like the calm between the storms - and I like them. They can be comforting in times of sorrow and cases.. **

**I was sort of worried that Sherlock might be cheating on Elizabeth but I am so so very glad he wasn't. My heart wouldn't be able to cope. It probably won't be able to cope with however you write Reichenbach Fall, but, um, that isn't the point..**

**Anyhow... I think it's time to wrap this review up because they're usually long and obnoxious anyway **

**EAGERLY AWAITING THE NEXT CHAPTER!**

**-Belladonna**

**It is so wonderful to hear from you again!**

**And I love long reviews! You never have to apologize for them :)**

**It feels weird to me as well, that they are getting married. I fell I rushed it a bit, but then again, in the series, there are months between episodes sometimes, so I honestly don't know how I feel….**

**Though, in writing, it does feel very rushed.**

**Thank you for being honest about your opinion, as well. It was actually refreshing, in a way. Sorry to say she was somewhat kind in this chapter as well, but, in a way, it was relevant to the plot. I.**

**Am. SO! Excited. For. Reichenbach! You don't understand.**

**I'm serious! I have mixed feeling of course, sadness, and a bit of anger, to be honest, but overall, excitement. And I hate that I am so excited and thrilled to be writing it sometime soon, and I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry.**

**It's going to be great….**

**Thank you for reviewing, and again, it is great to hear from you again!**

**That's all I've got!  
Please tell me what you think, because I am worried beyond belief!**

**Thanks!**

**~Eruaphadriel**


	28. Chapter 28

**Bah, bah, bah, bah bah nana**

**How are you all?**

**For the longest time, those first two lines were all I had on this paper. It was fun.**

**So, I know some people like smut, and some do not( i am one that really doesn't, for reasons that are down below, but, like I said, some really do), but if someone really wants to write some, go right on ahead, I know it's happened before with tons of other stories. It's whatever you want to do, just give me a heads up if you're going to. I probably won't add it in here, as a chapter, but just give me a heads up, so I can tell others who might actually be interested.**

**Also, I am thinking about writing a Doctor Who short story, but I don't know yet. I don't want to leave this story, and if I wrote the DW story, I wouldn't completely abandon this one, but I get into a habit of having too many stories going on at once, and not giving them equal attention, and it bothers me to no end.**

**Either way, I just wanted to give you guys a heads up, in case you were interested.**

**Also, I want to talk to you guys, and raise awareness of an organization that I love.**

**Fight the New Drug (FTND) is a non-profit organization in California. It is an anti-pornography organization founded in 2009 that focuses on on informing youth and raising awareness for the harmful effects of pornography. Please help and support them, even if it's just spreading the word, or telling a friend (like I am doing now) (This is also the reason why I don't write smut, and won't include a chapter of smut even if someone else wrote it, on this story. Again, if you really want to write it, go ahead, but I shant.).**

Rome. 3,000 years of beautiful, influential art, agriculture, culture-a city with beauty at every turn.

"Rome." I whispered, as the plane began to land, and I got a birds eye view of the beautiful city below. "We're in Rome!"

"Buckle up, we're landing." Sherlock reminded. I grabbed the belt.

"Yeah, I know." I said quietly, as I buckled myself in, turning back to the window straight afterwards.

We stood, waiting to receive our luggage, and I absolutely could not wait. I was almost bouncing off of the wall.

Sherlock received his luggage fairly quickly, but we couldn't find mine. Meanwhile the sun was going down...fast!

I felt a tap on my shoulder, and I spun around to find a man, not much taller than me, in a nice looking tux, with a name tug stuck to it.

"Excuse me," He said, in a thick, Italian accent. "Are you Elizabeth Holmes?"

I smiled at the name. "Yes."

"Our apologize, ma'am, it seems the previous airport lost your luggage." he said, shyly.

"Are you serious?" I asked. Sherlock turned around this time.

"We are very, very sorry, we do not know how this happened."

"It's...it's alright." I said finally. "Thank you." He nodded, and left. All of my luggage, save for everything in my carry on (Phone, laptop, makeup, and chargers), gone.

"well." Sherlock said. "We waiting fifteen minutes for nothing."

"Huh." I huffed. "What am I going to do?" I said, running my hands over my face.

"Well, tonight you can borrow some of my pajamas, or, you know," He said, suggestively. I glared at him, and the smile fell from his face.

"Do not continue that sentence, Mr. Holmes."

"And tomorrow, we can get some extra clothes." He said.

"Alright. That sounds better than whatever you were suggesting." I said, walking out of the airport, Sherlock behind me.

I walked out onto the street, and was blown away. The buildings were amazing, beautiful, works of art, and I could smell food. I sighed, happily, and walked down the street, before realising I had absolutely no idea where I was going. I stopped and turned around.

"Other way, dear." Sherlock said, still standing at the entrance of the airport. I stomped over to him, and followed him down the street, to the hotel.

* * *

"Yup." I said. "It's all gone."

"Seriously?" Harry asked. Her and John told us to call as soon as we had landed, and I decided to do so, while Sherlock was downstairs. Something about talking to the management? I can't remember, to be honest.

"Yeah."

"Well, tonight it won't be such a big deal." She said, suggestively.

"Oh my gosh, why?" I said, and she laughed. "Sherlock made a joke about that, too."

"Listen, Lil'." She said. "It's your wedding ni-"

"I know what night it is, I'm not stupid." She laughed harder.

"It's not a sin, you know. You're married now. Totally normal."

"Doesn't mean I like discussing it."

Harry sighed over the phone. "Virgin." She teased.

"Proud."I smiled.

"Okay, seriously, though, what are you going to do. One whole week, no clothes."

"We're going shopping tomorrow. I'll get some then. And _tonight_, Sherlock is letting me borrow some of his pajamas, and don't make a dirty joke, please." She chuckled, and i heard the door open behind me.

"Okay, I'll text it to you, then."

"Oh gosh, no, Harry, don't do that either. I _will_ tell John."

"I'm not scared of him." She said, confidently. I scoffed.

"Yeah, right."

"So, have _fun_-"

"Harry, I swear, I will hang up on you."

I heard her laugh, and make another obscene joke, and I pressed 'end call' immediately, chuckling to myself.

"Everything all right?" Sherlock asked, unpacking his bags.

"Just Harry being Harry." i said, sending a short text to John, telling him we made it alright, and all that Harry had said, hoping he would call her. I really, really hope he does.

"Have you told John we've made it?"

"Just did." I yawned. The sun had gone down, but the streets were filled with people and cars, just as London is.

Sherlock threw a pair of pajamas my way, and instead of going out, like we planned, we just ordered room service.

Though….it really didn't matter.

If Harry ever found out, I would never hear the end of it.

* * *

The next morning, when I woke up, Sherlock was gone. I was confused, but I didn't get up. Instead, I remained in bed. The sun felt nice against my bare shoulder, and the feather bed was heavenly. I didn't want to move.

At all.

Eventually, after ten more minutes, I sat up, wrapping the blanket around me, and looked around the room.

Sherlock's side of the bed was made, something he did every morning when he got up, no matter if I was awake or not, and lying at the foot of the bed was a dress, brand new.

It had quarter length sleeves, and seemed long enough to reach my mid-calf, so I would be able to wear it at the Vatican Museums, not to mention, it was gorgeous.

It was plain white, and the sleeved puffed out a little, but not too much. The material was thin, so I would keep cool, as well, because it was insanely warm here.

It fit perfectly, a little loose, as it was supposed to be, but it was comfortable.

Along with the dress, were some shoes, white, lace, closed toe slip ons, that could go well with anything, and a note from Sherlock, saying he would be back to pick me up, and we would go to the Vatican Museums.

I made some coffee, sat on the balcony, and waited. The buildings in Rome were exquisite. They were old, older that I could imagine, with an insane amount of gorgeous detail that made my heart skip a beat every time i saw something new.

The street below me was full of people and vehicles, as it had been last night, but it seemed the traffic had thickened since then. more people out and about during the day. Getting to the Vatican Museums would be a challenge today, no doubt.

"You look nice. Glad the dress fits." I heard Sherlock say from behind me. I never heard the door open, or shut. I turned my head to look at him and smile.

"Thank you. I love it." I said, glancing down at it. He smiled.

"Ready to go?" He asked, and I nodded, happily strolling back into the hotel room, shutting the balcony door, and following Sherlock out.

* * *

The line looked dreadful!

Hundreds of people were waiting just to get tickets in, and then we would have to wait for bag checks.

Just as I was beginning to panic, Sherlock pulled me away from the line, and towards a separate one, shorter than the other, that I hadn't noticed before.

"What are we doing?"

"I've already got tickets. Ordered them the other day before we left." He explained, and handed the tickets to the woman, who smiled, and told us to have a great time.

"Oh." I said. "Cool."

Our bags were checked fairly quickly as well, and we were going to be given a private tour with a few other people.

Beautiful doesn't describe it. There was no language in the dictionary that could. I spent the whole time in awe, pointing out things to Sherlock like an excited toddler, my voice high and squeaky, and I could barely stand flat footed, or I was bouncing slightly in excitement, grabbing onto his arm, holding onto it for dear life.

Sherlock, though, was oddly quiet, only butting in a few times to correct (and insult, under his breath) the tour guide, which he would do anyway, and he doesn't talk much either, but this time it was different. Very different. I didn't say anything, though, until we were out of the museums and back on the street.

"What's wrong?" I asked. He shook his head.

"Nothing."

I sighed, "Alright then. So dinner here, yeah?" I asked, pointing to one of the little restaurants Sherlock and I had talked about going to. I went to walk in, but Sherlock grabbed my arm.

"Not here. We're going somewhere else instead?"

"Why?" I wondered, moving away from the door following my husband down the street.

"Because, it sounded better." he answered simply. I shrugged, and caught up with him.

"Okay."

* * *

Sherlock had been staring across the room for the past five minutes, seemingly not listening to anything I was saying. At first it didn't bother me, but now it was becoming a little annoying.

I looked around, then picked a piece off of my roll, and threw it, hitting him right in the forehead.

He turned to me. "What was that for?"

"Have you been listening? At all?" I asked.

"Yes, of course I have." He said, not looking me in the eye. Instead, looking behind me, where he was staring a second ago.

"Alright, then, what was the last thing I said?" I asked, folding my arms on the table.

"Something about you and John playing tag as kinds." he said, waving his hand in the air. I sighed.

"Alright, that was the last thing I said before we walked into the restaurant ten minutes ago." He didn't say anything, and I gave up, turning my head. "What's so interesting over there?" I asked, trying to find what was interesting Sherlock so much. The only people that were at a table behind us, though, was a young couple. The man obviously Italian, tall, and handsome, while the woman was shorter, blond and pale, more than likely a tourist, but they seemed to be enjoying a nice date, both laughing and cutting up.

"Why are they so interesting?" I asked, turning back to Sherlock.

"He's done this before?"

"Done what, exactly?" I asked, turning back to the couple.

"Introduced himself to a 'beautiful' foreign girl, taken her out to dinner, promising to be her tour guide. She thinks he being polite, or flirting, and then he kills her."

"Wow, that's nice. And you're on the case? That's why we're here?" I guessed.

"Yes."

I remained silent, taking a sip of my water, before saying anything. "okay." I said simply, and quietly.

"okay?"

"Okay." I repeated.

"You were hoping for something else?" He asked, slowly.

"I was hoping for a work free holiday. A holiday in Rome that I could enjoy with my new husband, but he is, apparently, preoccupied." I looked back down, folding a corner of my napkin. "I'll just see if the colosseum is as magnificent as they say it is if one is alone, while you chase another psychopath."

"You're upset." He stated. I let out a little laugh.

"A little. I mean, wouldn't you be?" I said, shrugging a shoulder."I get that it's your job, and all, and you love it immensely, and I can't say I don't like it myself-I love helping you- but…" I trailed off. He nodded.

We stayed silent for a while.

"You know, I would storm off and make a dramatic exit, but I have no idea how to get back to the hotel, and you have all of our money." I said with a giggle, and Sherlock laughed as well.

I finished eating, and Sherlock did the same, glancing at the table every once in awhile.

"When you get out of here, turn left, then cross the street, go straight, take a right, and you're there. You know the building. Can you remember?"

I repeated the information back to him with a smile.

"Great." He grinned, and kissed my forehead, rising from his chair, and getting in line behind the couple he had been stalking, paid, and left, following them. I let out a breath of a laugh, watching him, and i felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Not so good, _bella_?" the waiter asked in a heavy accent. "Free dessert?" He offered. I was going to decline, tell him everything was fine, and an urgent matter had arisen,

_buut_

Things did go kind of bad, we argued, and dessert sounded _marvelous_.

"Work, just got in the way." I said, sadly, shaking my head. I wasn't lying. it was true.

He offered a sympathetic nod, and grabbed a dessert menu.

"Order anything, on the house. If there is anything else you need, please, let Adamo" he pointed to himself "know."

I thanked him, and looked over the menu, not sure whether to celebrate, or to scold myself.

I decided to make that decision after my whopping slice of chocolate cake with ice cream, and hot fudge…

* * *

"How was it?" John asked with a smile on his face, as we stumbled through the door, bags in hand. I only nodded, as did Sherlock. "Did everything go alright? Other than the lost luggage."

"I had a great time." Sherlock said, with a shrug. I nodded in agreement.

"I did too."  
"Must be nice. Work free holiday."

"Nope." Sherlock and I said at the same time, though, I'm sure, for totally different reasons.

"It wasn't work free." I glanced over my shoulder at Sherlock, who rolled his eyes.

"One serial killer. I was working the case for two days, Elizabeth."

I giggled. I wasn't upset anymore, and he did apologize, taking me to Venice for a day to make up for it.

"I'm just messing." I said, taking my camera from my bag. "I got tons of great picture, though." I tossed the camera to John, who had the hands outstretched eagerly.

I took my bags to the bedroom, Sherlock following closely behind.

"Hey, no funny business, either!" John called from behind us. "I'm still in here."

I rolled my eyes.

"I have a feeling those jokes are never going to stop."

"They've happened before?" Sherlock asked.

"You have no idea."

* * *

The next week, Sherlock couldn't find anything to do. I had some little errands to run throughout the week, and I asked him to come along, which was a giant mistake, so the morning he got a case, and left early that morning, I was relieved he had something else to do, as bad as that may sound. He was getting restless.

"Good morning." I said, cheerfully, strolling through the kitchen. John was already in his chair, on his laptop, dressed.

"Morning." he mumbled. I grabbed some yogurt from the fridge, and a spoon, settling in Sherlock's chair with the TV remote, turning it to Doctor Who.

I heard the door shut, and someone bound up the stairs. Sherlock charged in, slamming the end of a harpoon, that I never knew he had, on the ground. He was covered in blood, and so was the harpoon, which made me panic.

"Well, that was tedious."

"What did you do?" I asked, covering my mouth.

"You went on the tube like that?" John asked.

"None of the cabs would take me." He said, frustrated, before storming off to the bedroom.

**So I know it's kind of short, and I am so sorry, but I had writer's block, and I don't like to force myself to write a whole lot, because then I feel like I'm producing absolute crap (which is what this chapter is, basically)**

**But now we're getting into Hounds of Baskerville, which is one of my favorite episodes for many different reasons, so I am immensely excited.**

**So, the story that I promised you, that Belladonna Took reminded me about:**

**I was, maaaaaaaybe nine…meaning my sister was seven or eight.**

**We got dropped off at our aunts after schools (because we didn't live in the district, but she did), and our Mom would come and pick us up whenever she got off of work.**

**One day, we were on our way home, and she told us we were going out somewhere nice with her fiancé, Ben. We were excited (we liked Ben a lot-he was really cool), and we tried to guess where we were going, both of us led to believe we were going out to eat-mom had said nothing, it was just an assumption, since we were low on money, and that was really all we did, that I can remember.**

**Mom gave clues, one of the being 'Till death do you part', and of course I said we were going to get Mexican (Because, let's face it…he's a man eating beans and spicy food that will tear his stomach up. The bathroom will be occupied, and going inside will result in suffocation. Someone was going to die)**

**Mom, instead, took us to the church my Papaw preached at, and changed into her dress (one she pulled from the closet), and they said their vows, and it was lovely. Some members of both families were there, so it wasn't huge, and there wasn't a reception or anything, nothing big, no honeymoon, nothing. Just said their vows, and went home.**

**Anyway, Reviews!**

I loved how you incorporated the story! :) I agree that the chapter was a bit rushed, though. You might have been able to elaborate in some places. It was also a bit difficult to pick up on the stress and nervousness that comes from planning your wedding, but I still think you did a lovely job. Really enjoyed the chapter and can't wait for the update!

~CheckAlexa

**I'm glad you like it! I think I could have elaborated a lot on everything, almost, but thank you for the compliment. It was insanely difficult, and I was insanely worried, but I am so happy that you liked it!**

From: Belladonna Took (Guest)

Belladonna Took:I have very strong suspicions about who R.B is. Took a bit of thinking, but I THINK I know... AND I'M REALLY NOT HAPPY WITH WHO R.B MIGHT BE

Aaaanyway..

I like how you wrote the wedding- and this entire chapter! R.B got me quite worried and I was sort of looking through my entire mind, but then I realised.. and it made me sad. JIM WHY ;-;

DON'T BE SORRY ABOUT BEING EXCITED FOR WRITING REICHENBACH! I'm very very excited for Reichenbach Fall but also dreading it because, well, the obvious.. but, as I've said far too many times, I'm very excited for it and how you'll write it!

It did seem a little rushed, but there, as you said, are months between episodes. And writing and TV shows are two very different things so it may not seem rushed in the series but it might in writing. Elizabeth walking down the aisle barefoot was great xD Elizabeth's shoes are lost in the void... never to be seen again... R.I.P shoes, R.I.P.

I have a small hunch as to where Sherlock and Elizabeth might be honeymooning, but I could be completely wrong so. . . I'll have to wait and see!

EAGERLY AWAITING THE NEXT CHAPTER! :D

-Belladonna

P.S It's also good to know that you like long reviews. I'd have a bit of a problem if you didn't XD

P.P.S YOU CAN COUNT ON ME TO REMIND YOU ABOUT YOUR MOM AND STEPDAD'S WEDDING

**I tried to make it obvious….but not. I think you may have got it, though (spoiler…)**

**I am super excited. I am making myself upset, though, thinking about it. It's going to be torture, but I'll love it….I hope.**

**I hope that if I ever get married, I have enough courage to walk down the aisle barefoot, but I hate my feet, so maybe socks? Fuzzy, colorful socks! With cats on them! Yeaaaah :)**

**That was kind of a last minute decision, though. I though 'something about this is way to normal', so we lost the shoes to make it kind of different, because I've never seen a bride who wasn't in heels, or some kind of shoes, but not very insane, or obvious, you know?  
And, please, tell me if you were right about the honeymoon destination. I'm insanely curious!**

**Thank you for reminding me about the story, as well! I totally forgot about it, so when I read your review, I was like 'What in the world is she talking about?', but then I had a lightbulb moment, as I call them, and realized what you meant :). Silly, silly me, silly silly Chris!**

**Thank you for your lovely review, and I'm glad you liked the chapter!**

**Anyway, the next chapter should be up soon.**

**Hope this one was okay, I know it was insanely short, and I'm sorry, but I wanted to get something up soon, and I had major writer's block.**

**A while back, I decided to do a song per chapter, not really relating to the chapter, just something I like I would love to share, and I haven't done it in so long, but this time, I have one.**

**A few, actually.**

**The first one is actually an artist, Iron and Wine, who I am sure I mentioned in previous chapters, but one of my favorite songs by them is Swans and the Swimming.**

**Another favorite artist of mine is Angus and Julia Stone, and one of my favorites being Just A Boy.**

**Anyway, talk to you guys later, and tell me what you think of the artist/song if you ever get the chance to look them up. Positive and negative feedback is welcome for anything!**

**Till next time!**

**~Eruaphadriel**


	29. Author's Note:So sorry, please read!

"Why isn't there a chapter up yet!? oh, yeah, that's right, it's because the author is a horrible, lazy human being!"

Sorry sorry sorry, so so sorry!

Sorry I've been so inactive recently. I have been writing a script for a short horror film my sister's friends and I are going to shoot. We're going to have a little premiere on Halloween night, showing our movie, along with some other horror films that we've rented, and we're stocking up on cady to serve, since none of us are trick-or-treating. It's going to be so fun, and the gag reel is going to be absolutely hysterical! I honestly can not wait!

Luckily my sister is on fall break this week, so we can get some shooting done Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, so maybe no writing on this story, and I am on break next week, so I can do all of the editing, and such, since I'm not going to have a huge roll. I'm the ghost, as well as the cameraman, and editor, and director, and writer. So, again, maybe no writing on this story then either.

But if you're interested in seeing it, say so in a review, and I might post a link to it in an A/N.

SO that's why there may not be a chapter this week, and I promised myself I wouldn't do anything like this, and maybe I'll write a short little bit for you guys, because sometimes I get into a mood where I'm just like "I HAVE TO WRITE EVERYTHING, ON EVERYTHING, FOR EVERYTHING, WRITING WRITING WRITING!" and then other times its. "writing...writing...writing zzzzzzzzz…..*Snoring ensues*"

Soo, yeah. I don't know what it's going to be like, but I wanted to tell you guys what's going on, before I missed my chance, and left you guys hanging.

Also, I've been getting headaches a lot recently, and I don't know why, stress maybe, but along with them I've been getting really tired, so I haven't done much of anything, and just like my writing moods, these come and go in waves, which is beginning to drive me bonkers, but, whatever. I just take an ibuprofen, and hope I don't die :) It's been great…

They vary, too. Sometimes they hurt more towards the top of my head, and sometimes (like right now, as I am writing this) right behind my eye, and they're difficult to get rid of. I'm thinking chronic migraines, but I don't know. I'm going to try to go to the doctor during fall break, if they continue like this.

Anyway, I just wanted to tell you guys where I've been, and where I will be for the next couple of days. Feel free to follow me on Instagram (eruaphadriel_) To keep up with me, and filming (easier than posting on here, because I HATE doing this). I'll be posting little behind the scenes stuff, so, if you're interested, feel free to follow. I'm private, but I accept just about anyone.

Anyway, that's it. I hope you guys are okay, and I promise something great in the next chapter to make up for all of this. this chapter will also be deleted as soon as the next one comes up, so it doesn't take up room.

See you guys later, and thank you so much for understanding. I love you all from the botom of my heart.

~Eruaphadriel X


	30. Chapter 30

**Hello, all.**

**This IS a chapter, surprisingly!**

**SSo, in the last A/N I mentioned shooting a movie. I wrote the script, and had music planned out and everything, and , just my luck, only one of our actresses was able to show up. The other was on vacation, and couldn't make it, and the other faked my sister out, told her she was coming, and never showed, so the movie never got done, but hopefully, someday, it will be, because I was so looking forward to it!**

**Now, all I have are my headaches, which started to subside, but today, they started to hit me a lot harder than they did, so that sucks.**

**ALSO there is a question I want to ask you all, because I honestly can not decide yes, it is about the story, and your answer will affect a future outcome… I won't say anything else about it, no matter how much I want to.**

**Before, or after? Which do you prefer?**

**I'm not saying anything else :) **

**But! While I'm in the mood, and everything done, I decided to write a little. Don't know how good it's going to be, but it's something...I guess….**

"Nothing?" Sherlock asked impatiently. I shook my head, turning a page of the newspaper, scanning through the page.

"Military coup in Uganda." John suggested, but Sherlock only grunted in disinterest. I began to smile at my page.

"Another photo of you in the…" I trailed off, as Sherlock looked over my shoulder, and made a noise of disgust at the photo of him in the beloved deerstalker.

"Um, Cabinet reshuffle." John said, but Sherlock, again, as usual, wasn't interested.

"Nothing of importance." he slammed the end of the harpoon on the ground. "_Oh God!"_ He explained. "John, I need some, get me some." he demanded.

"No." John said, simply.

Sherlock turned to me then. "Get me some." He demanded.

"Nope. We agreed. Cold turkey, remember?" I asked. He sighed, seemingly giving up. "And, you've paid everyone off, remember?" I asked. "No one will sell you any."

"Stupid idea." Sherlock remarked. "Who's idea was that?"

John cleared his throat, and I cracked a smile.

Sherlock paced around again for a moment, before tearing papers from the desk, throwing them onto the floor, causing me to jump, and John to only stare in frustration, clearing his throat.

"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock shouts, moving on to another pile.

"Look, Sherlock, you're doing really well, don't give up now." I tried, but Sherlock wasn't listening.

"Tell me where they are, please, tell me." He begged. He straightened up, and asked again, "Please."

"Can't help, sorry." John said, and I only shook my head.

"I'll give you next week's lottery numbers." He tried to bribe. John chuckled. "It was worth a try." He shrugged. then hurled himself on the floor in front of the fireplace, ,looking underneath a pile of papers, revealing one of my old slippers.

"That's where it's gone to. I thought it was kicked underneath the bed ages ago."

"And you never thought to look?" John asked. I shrugged a shoulder.

"Too lazy. Plus, God knows what's underneath there." He nodded.

"Hoo, hoo." I heard Mrs., Hudson knock on the door lightly. Sherlock was still rummaging around the fireplace.

"My secret supply. What have you done with my secret supply?" He asked.

"What?"  
"Cigarettes!" He exclaimed. "What have you done with them, where are they?"

"You know you never let me touch your things." She said, looking around the flat. "Oh, chance would be a fine thing."

"I thought you weren't my housekeeper?" Sherlock asked, standing up to look at her.

"I'm not."

Sherlock stomped back over to the harpoon, picking it up again. Mrs. Hudson and I glanced over at John, who looked at us, and did the universal mime for offering someone a drink.

"How about a nice cuppa, and maybe put away your harpoon." Mrs. H. suggested, like a mother would have.

"I need something stronger than tea. Seven per_cent_ stronger."

Sherlock turned, quickly to look at the window, but turned back again to point his harpoon at her, making her, and me, flinch.

"You've been to see Mr Chatterjee again." He said.

"Pardon?"  
"Sandwich shop. That's a new dress, but there's flour on the sleeve. You wouldn't dress like that for baking."

"Sherlock." John whinned.

"Thumbnail: tiny traces of foil. Been at the scratch cards again. We all know where _that_ leads, don't we?" He took a deep breath in. "Mmm: 'Kasbah Nights.' Pretty racy for first thing on a Monday morning, wouldn't you agree? You, undoubtedly borrowed it from Elizabeth, her sister doused her in it for our wedding. I've written a little blog on the identification of perfumes. It's on the website – you should look it up. I wouldn't pin your hopes on that cruise with Mr Chatterjee. He's got a wife in Doncaster that nobody knows about."

"Sherlock!" I exclaimed, glaring at him.

"Well, nobody except me."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Mrs. Hudson said, clearly upset. "I really don't." She stormed down the stairs, while Sherlock gave up on finding the cigarettes, and sat on the arm of his chair, beside me. John and I glared at him.

"What was that about?" John asked.

"You don't understand." Sherlock replied.

"Go after her and apologize." He commanded.

"Apologise?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Oh, John, I envy you so much." John and I shared a glance.

"You envy him?" I asked.

"Really?"  
" Your mind: it's so placid, straightforward, barely used. Mine's like an engine, racing out of control; a rocket tearing itself to pieces trapped on the launch pad. I need a case!" He said loudly, frantically.

"You just solved one!" John yelled back. "By harpooning a dead pig apparently."

"That was this morning." Sherlock grumbled. "When's the next one?" Sherlock put his feet on the ground, beginning to stomp them lightly, impatient.

"Nothing on the website." I announced. "Surprisingly." Standing, Sherlock grabbed the laptop, and opened it, reading.

""Dear Mr Sherlock Holmes. I can't find Bluebell anywhere. Please please please can you help?""

"Bluebell?" I asked, giggling a little.

"A rabbit, Elizabeth."

"Oh."

"Ah, but there's more! Before Bluebell disappeared, it turned luminous …"like a fairy'," Sherlock adopted a little girl's voice, making it hard to suppress a laugh.

"according to little Kirsty; then the next morning, Bluebell was gone! Hutch still locked, no sign of a forced entry …" He suddenly turned serious "What am I saying, this is brilliant. Phone Lestrade, tell him there's an escaped rabbit." He ordered, pointing at John and I.

"Are you serious?" I asked with a laugh.

"It's this, or Cluedo." John made a face, putting his laptop down at his feet.

"No, we are not doing that again."

"Why not?" Sherlock asked, as if it was obvious, like he didn't remember.

"Because, Sherlock, it's not actually possible for the victim to have done it."

"It was the only possible solution."

"It's not in the rules."

"Well then the rules are wrong!"

JUst then, the doorbell rung, and they both looked at each other.  
"Single ring." John stated.

"Maximum pressure just under the half second."

"Client." they both said simultaneously. Sherlock went back to the bedroom, probably to change his dressing gown for a jacket, and I rose from the chair, knowing Sherlock would rather sit there, grabbing one from the table, as did John, when Mrs. Hudson brought up a very shaken looking client, thinking he would be more comfortable in an arm chair, rather than the ones we were on.

Not long afterwards, Sherlock emerged, and the client, Henry, began showing us a documentary on Dartmoor. I had always enjoyed documentaries, so was leaning forward, interested, while John and Sherlock sat back, Sherlock looking absolutely bored, and John trying not to.

"'Dartmoor. It's always been a place of myth and legend, but is there something else lurking out here – something very real?'" the presenter on the documentary began. "'Because Dartmoor's also home to one of the government's most secret of operations ... ... the chemical and biological weapons research centre which is said to be even more sensitive than Porton Down. Since the end of the Second World War, there've been persistent stories about the Baskerville experiments: genetic mutations, animals grown for the battlefield. There are many who believe that within this compound, in the heart of this ancient wilderness, there are horrors beyond imagining. But the real question is: are all of them still inside?'" The scene switched to Henry, talking to an offscreen interviewer.

"'I was just a kid. It-it was on the moor.'" I looked to Sherlock, who was staring at our client, obviously not exactly listening, or caring much about the documentary. "'It was dark, but I know what I saw. I _know_ what killed my father.'"

Sherlock sighed, picked up the remote, and switched the TV off.

"What did you see?" Sherlock asked. Henry pointed to the TV.

"I...I was just about to say." He stuttered.

"Yes, in a TV interview. I prefer to do my own editing."

"Yes, sorry, yes of course. 'Scuse me." He reached into his pocket, and retrieved a paper napkin, wiping his nose on it.

"In your own time." I said, being as nice as I could, knowing Sherlock, not really believing in this sort of thing, was going to rudely dismiss him. Might as well show as much hospitality before then.

"But quite quickly." Sherlock added. I sighed. Henry lowered the napkin.

"Do you know Dartmoor, Mr Holmes?" Henry asked.

"No."

"It's an amazing place. It's like nowhere else. It's sort of ... bleak but beautiful."

"Not interested, moving on." Sherlock said, and I glanced at John, who rolled his eyes at him flat mate.

"We used to go for walks, after my mum died, my dad and me. Every evening we'd go out onto the moor."

"Yes, good. Skipping to the night that your dad was violently killed. Where did that happen?"

"Sherlock!" I whispered, harshly. He only looked at me, eyebrows furrowed, and shrugged, earning a glare from me, and an odd look from Henry, his eyes glancing from Sherlock, then back to me.

"There's a place – it's... it's a sort of local landmark called Dewer's Hollow." Henry continued. "That's an ancient name for the Devil."

"So?"Sherlock asked, shrugging a shoulder. this time, I didn't hold back, and swatted his arm, lightly.

"Did you see the Devil that night?" John asked.

"Yes." Henry whispered with a nod. "It was huge. Coal-black fur, with red eyes. It got him, tore at him, tore him apart. I can't remember anything else. They found me the next morning, just wandering on the moor. My dad's body was never found."

"Hmm." John hummed.

I looked to Sherlock. "red eyes, coal black fur, maybe a large dog? A wolf?" I guessed.

"Or a genetic experiment." He looked over at me with a smirk.

"Are you laughing at me, Mr. Holmes?"

"Why are you joking?" He asked.

"My dad was always going on about the things they were doing at Baskerville; about the type of monsters they were breeding there. People used to laugh at him. At least the TV people took me seriously."

"And I'm sure it did wonders for tourism." He had a point, there.  
"Henry, whatever _did_ happen to your father, it was twenty years ago. Why come to us now?" John asked, leaning forward. Henry, though, ignored him.

"I'm not sure you can help me, Mr Holmes, since you find it all so funny." He stood up to leave.

"Because of what happened last night." Sherlock answered, and Henry stopped, looking back at him.

"What?" I asked. "What happened last night?" I looked at Henry.

"How...how do you know?"

"I didn't know, I noticed." Sherlock answered "You came up from Devon on the first available train this morning. You had a disappointing breakfast and a cup of black coffee. The girl in the seat across the aisle fancied you. Although you were initially keen, you've now changed your mind. You are, however, _extremely_ anxious to have your first cigarette of the day. Sit down, Mr Knight, and do _please_ smoke. I'd be delighted."

"How did you know all of that?"

"It's really not all that important." I said, to henry, placing a hand on Sherlock's shoulder, hoping he wouldn't explain, and show off.

"Punched-out holes where your ticket s been checked …"

"Not now, Sherlock." John warned.

"Oh, please, I've been cooped up for ages."

"You're showing off." I sighed.

"Of course. I am a show of. That's what we do." He patted my hand, which was still on his shoulder. "The train napkin that you used to mop up the spilled coffee: the strength of the stain shows that you didn't take milk. There are traces of ketchup on it and round your lips and on your sleeve. Cooked breakfast – or the nearest thing those trains can manage. Probably a sandwich."

"How did you know it was disappointing?" Henry asked.

"Is there any other type of breakfast on a train? The girl – female handwriting's quite distinctive. Wrote her phone number down on the napkin. I can tell from the angle she wrote at that she was sat across from you on the other side of the aisle. Later – after she got off, I imagine – you used the napkin to mop up your spilled coffee, accidentally smudging the numbers. You've been over the last four digits yourself with another pen, so you wanted to keep the number. Just now, though, you used the napkin to blow your nose. Maybe you're not that into her after all. Then there's the nicotine stains on your fingers ... your _shaking_ fingers. I know the signs. No chance to smoke one on the train; no time to roll one before you got a cab here." He glanced at his watch. "It's just after nine fifteen. You're desperate. The first train from Exeter to London leaves at five forty-six a.m. You got the first one possible, so something important must have happened last night. Am I wrong?" I glanced at John, who took a drink from his mug to hide his face.

"No." Henry said. Sherlock smiled, smugly. "You're right. You're completely, exactly right. Bloody hell, I heard you were quick."

"It's my job." Sherlock responded, leaning forward. "Now shut up and smoke."

I leaned back, shaking my head slightly, and sending an apologetic smile to Henry, as he retrieved a pack of rolled up lights from his coat pocket, and light one. I gave up trying.

"Henry, your parents both died when you were young, seven years old.

"I know, that's...my…" As Henry exhaled, Sherlock leaned into the smoke, breathing deeply through his nose, then leaning back again, sighing. I tried my best to ignore him.

"Do you think that maybe you invented this monster...to...uh…." I started, but stopped when Sherlock leaned forward again, breathing in the smoke he could, before sitting back down.

"That's what Dr. mortimer says." Henry said, ignoring Sherlock as well, the best he could.

"Who?" I asked.

"his therapist." Sherlock answered, almost at the same time Henry answered.

"Obviously." Sherlock said.

"Louise Mortimer. She's the reason I came back to Dartmoor. She thinks I have to face my demons."

"And what happened when you went back to Dewer's Hollow last night, Henry? You went there on the advice of your therapist and now you're consulting a detective. What did you see that changed everything?" Sherlock asked him.

"It's a strange place, the Hollow. Makes you feel so cold inside, so afraid."

"Yes, if I wanted poetry I'd read John's emails to his girlfriends. Much funnier." John glanced to me as I stifled a laugh, and shrugged, not wanting to make it seem like I knew anything, when really Sherlock and I had giggled over the e-mails a few times. I tried to stand up for my brother on occasion ('I bet she thought it was nice', 'He's being sweet, take lessons' (that one earned a glare from Sherlock) 'I'm sure she loved these'), but no matter what I said, they were a little funny.

"What did you _see_?"

"Footprints – on the exact spot where I saw my father torn apart." Henry answered.

"Man's or woman's?" John asked, but Henry shook his head.

"Neither. They were …"

"That's it?" Sherlock asked. "Nothing else. Footprints. Is that all?"

"Yes, but they were…" Henry tried, but Sherlock cut him off again.

"No, sorry, Doctor Mortimer wins. Childhood trauma masked by an invented memory. Boring! Goodbye, Mr Knight. Thank you for smoking."

"No, but what about the footprints?" Henry asked, trying to regain Sherlock's attention.

"Oh, they're probably paw prints; could be anything, therefore nothing. Off to Devon with you; have a cream tea on me." He stood back up, making his way out of the living room, into the kitchen.

"Mr Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound!" Henry's statement stopped Sherlock dead in his tracks. He spun around, slowly, and began walking back into the living room.

"Say that again."

"I found the footprints; they were …"

"No, no, no, your exact words. Repeat your exact words from a moment ago, exactly as you said them." Sherlock demanded.

"Mr Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic ... hound."

"I'll take the case."

"Wait...what?" I said, confused.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention." He paced back and forth in the living room, his hands in a prayer position under his chin. "It's very promising."

"No-no-no, sorry, _what_? A minute ago, footprints were boring; now they're very promising?" John asked, as confused as I was.

"It's _nothing_ to do with footprints. As ever, John, you weren't listening. Baskerville: ever heard of it?" He asked.

"Vaguely. It's very hush-hush."

"Sounds like a good place to start."  
"Ah!" Henry exclaimed. "You'll come down, then?"

"No, I can't leave London at the moment. Far too busy. Don't worry – putting my best man onto it." He patted John's shoulder. "Always rely on John to send me the relevant data, as he never understands a word of it himself."

"What are you talking about, you're busy? You don't have a case! A minute ago you were complaining …" He cut me off.

"Bluebell, Elizabeth! I've got Bluebell! The case of the vanishing, glow-in-the-dark rabbit! NATO's in uproar." He explained, though I wasn't buying it.

"So, you're not coming down, then?" Henry asked. Sherlock shook his head.

"Okay." John said, standing, and walking to the mantle. "Okay." He lifted the skull, and took the cigarettes we hid underneath it, throwing them to Sherlock, who only threw them over his shoulder.

"I don't need those any more. I'm going to Dartmoor." He explained, walking out of the living room. "You go on ahead, Henry. We'll follow later."

"Sorry...so you are coming?" henry asked.

"Twenty year old disappearance; a monstrous hound? I wouldn't miss this for the world!"

* * *

Henry said goodbye shortly afterwards.

"Are you coming as well?" He had asked me, but I only shrugged.

"I don't know." I answered, honestly.

As soon as he left, I plopped down in Sherlock's chair, making myself comfortable, and switched the TV on, surfing the channels for a movie or show that looked somewhat interesting.

I finally settled on reality show, that I wasn't really caring about, and honestly making fun of a little, when Sherlock walked back in, carrying two large cases. I chuckled.

"Sherlock, dear, I don't know if you've noticed, but you're only going to be gone a few days, a week tops, and your wardrobe doesn't change too much, so I don't think you need two enormous bags." I said.

"Elizabeth, dear, I have noticed. This one is yours." He said, pointing to one of them. "I packed your favorite shirts, jeans, and shoes, other than the ones by the door, chargers, your laptop, and a book or two, since we'll be on the train a while. Thought you might get bored." he explained, going to grab his laptop from the table. I smiled.

"You want me to go?" I asked.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?" I shrugged a shoulder. "So, did I forget anything?"

"Yeah." I answered. Makeup."

"I didn't forget it. I just didn't pack it."

"Why?" I asked. He smiled, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead.

"You don't need it."

* * *

As soon as I walked out of the door, I could hear yelling coming from the sandwich shop next door, undoubtedly Mrs. Hudson.

"...cruise together. You had _no_ intention of taking me on it …" Something hit the glass, casing John and I to jump.

"Looks like the finally got to the wife in Doncaster." John chuckled.

"Wait until the finds out about the one in Islamabad." John sniggered, while I shook my head, getting into the taxi.

* * *

"There's Baskerville." John pointed ahead of him. As soon as we were off of the train, Sherlock managed to get a hold of a Land Rover, and drove towards Grimpen Village, making this top on the way, off of the road. Sherlock stood on a stone outcrop, John and I a few feet below him, John consulting his map.

"There's Grimpen Village." He turned and pointed behind us. "So that must be…" He turned again, looking ahead. "yeah, that's Dewer's Hollow."

"What's that?" Sherlock said, pointing between Baskerville and Dewer's Hollow. John grabbed the binoculars that were wrapped around his neck, bringing them up to his face, getting a closer look.

"Minefield?" he guessed. "Technically Baskerville is a military base, so I guess they've always been keen on keeping people out."

"Clearly." Sherlock mumbled.

* * *

We made our way towards the entrance of the small pub in Cross Keys Inn in Grimpen Village, while a tour guide spoke to the group, which was dispersing slowly.

"...three times a day. "Tell your friends. Tell anybody." he said. "Don't be strangers, and remember...stay away from the moore is you value your lives!"

I looked over at Sherlock, who had been pulling on his coat, and popping the collar. Apparently John had been looking as well, because he looked at the both of us, and shrugged.

"I'm cold." he said, failing to act nonchalant.

We walked into the pub, which had a blackboard, advertising "Boutique Rooms, and vegetarian cuisines", when we heard a roar behind us, causing me to jump and shriek in surprise, clining to Sherlock's coat. He looked down at me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, before glaring over his shoulder at the tour guide, whose shoulders slumped, and he took the shaggy dog mask off.

I walked to join John at the counter, while he got rooms, as Sherlock prowled around the pub on his own.

"I'm sorry we couldn't get a double room for you boys." The man behind the counter apologized to John as I was walking up. John grabbed my arm.

"This is his wife. I'm not gay." The man smiled, not really buying it.

"You look alike." The man noted.

"My sister." John explained, then sighed, giving the man some money for the drink he had bought. "There you go." he said.

"Oh, ta. I'll just get your change." he said, walking away. I took a sip of my drink to hide my smile, but john still saw it.

"It's not funny, you know. That's your husband they're calling gay. not directly but...you know."

"I know. Makes it a little funnier, honestly." I admitted.

"You're strange." John said, looking at the counter.

"I know."

"Elizabeth." He nudged my arm, nodding towards a stack of receipts. It took me a while, but I then noticed a receipt with 'Undershaw Meat Supplies' written on it. John quickly snatched it, handing it to me.

Think it might be important?" he asked. I shrugged, as John shoved it in his pocket, the guy behind the counter coming back with his change.

"There you go." he said, handing the change to John.

"I couldn't help but notice on the map of the moor: a skull and crossbones." John said, pointing to a map behind the counter.

"Oh that, aye."

"Pirates?" John asked. the man laughed.

"Eh, no, no. The Great Grimpen Minefield, they call it." H explained.

"Oh, right."

"It's not what you think. It's the Baskerville testing site. It's been going for eighty-odd years. I'm not sure anyone really knows what's there any more."

"Explosives?" John asked.

"Oh, not just explosives. Break into that place and – if you're _lucky_ – you just get blown up, so they say ... in case you're planning on a nice wee stroll."

"Ta. I'll remember."

"Aye. No, it buggers up tourism a bit, so thank God for the demon hound!" He chuckles, coming out from behind the bar. "Did you see that show, that documentary?

"Quite recently, yeah." He answered.

"Aye. God bless Henry Knight and his monster from hell."

"Have you ever seen the hound?" I asked.

"Me? No." He pointed out of the front doors, past Sherlock, to the tour guide we had seen earlier. "Fletcher has. He runs the walks – the Monster Walks for the tourists, you know? He's seen it."

"That's handy for trade." John stated.

"I'm just saying we've been rushed off our feet, Billy." The man behind the counter said to another man, who had arrived behind the bar, clearly the cook.

"Yeah, lot's of monster-hunters. Doesn't take much these days. One mention on Twitter and oomph." Billy said, then turned to the other man. 'We're out of WKD."

"All right."

"What with the monster and that ruddy prison, I don't know how we sleep nights. Do you, Gary?" Billy asked. Gary put a hand on his shoulder.

"LIke a baby."

"That's not true." Billy complained, turning to us. "He's a snorer." Gary made a noise, trying to shut him up, embarrassed. "Is yours a snorer?" He asked John, nodding at Sherlock.

"Yeah, he is." I answered, nodding at Sherlock as well. "have you got any crisps?"

**It was a lot longer than I thought it was going to be wow.**

**So sorry about bad grammar and spelling and what not. For some reason, I no longer like to capitalize things? I mean, I do, but my fingers don't like to comply. They try to keep up with my brain, and it doesn't work. Dyslexic fingers, I call them.**

**Anyway, please, please, please don't forget to answer the question in a review or PM: BEFORE Or AFTER? No, I will not give any more information out about the question, until a later date, and maybe not even then, but you WILL know eventually, just not right now :) Plans, my lovelies, I've got plans :)**

REVIEWS:  
_I MUST SEE THIS FILM YOU SPEAK OF. If you are comfortable sharing it, of course :D_

_Wow. Your mom and your step-dad's wedding is just goals. XD_

_And I thought that they might be honeymooning in a certain place named Dartmoor, but Rome's good, too, I guess xD It seemed like a bit of a filler and I was a little sad we didn't get more on this tour guide murderer, but nonetheless I enjoyed it. Don't apologise for the lack of smut, I would have never been able to look at Elizalock the same... *shudders*_

_And Elizabeth losing her luggage is very specific and I can't decide if its part of the buildup for Reichenbach Fall or if it was just so Sherlock and Harry could make those jokes.. *sighs* I'll just have to wait and see. ALSO, I would like to say, now that Elizalock is officially a thing, I am fully expecting lots of fluffy Elizalock moments. BUT DON'T FEEL PRESSURED TO INCLUDE IT PLEASE_

_EAGERLY AWAITING THE NEXT CHAPTER! (and also a link to the film)_

_~Belladonna Took_

**I expect to write a whole bunch of fluffy Elizalock moments :) Hopefully I can fit some in.**

**Sorry again about the whole film delima. Hopefully we can get something worked out between my sis and I this weekend.**

**I almost had the honeymoon in Dartmoor, but I decided against it. I don't remember why I did, but I did think about Dartmoor. I also almost wrote more about the murdering tour guide, but I never got around to it. I was hoping one day to write a book full of little oneshots that never made it into the story, and I might add that one in there, if you would be interested in reading it. I don't think there would be a real plot or anything to this book, just a collection of little moments that I never got around to writing, or cases that were on the blog that were never written between the episodes, things like that, not in any particular order in anything.**

**Also, I'm glad you are okay with the lack of smut. I am not really a fan of it myself, but I know a lot of people really are, so I was a little worried, hence the reason why I left it open for people to write it if they wished, if that made them happier, but I agree with you. it would have really changed them for me, and I don't think I would have liked it too much…**

**Thank you for the review (your reviews always make me smile so big! I just love them :) ), and I hope you liked this chapter.**

**Anyway, I think that's the only review I had, so I'll let you guys enjoy the rest of your day/ night, and REMEMBER please answer before, or after? I'm serious, I need to know, because I am so stuck, and I don't know what to do.**

**See ya later!**

**~Eruaphadriel**


	31. Chapter 31

**Hullo, again, all**

**So, if you follow my instagram, you missed out, and you don't know that I have started watching The Last Kingdom (I did reactions, and spammed everyone with reactions, and spoilers). If you haven't seen it yet, I highly suggest it! I am going to be using one of my favorite lines from the first episode in this chapter (the line that brought me to tears. Good tears (it was kind of funny, and unexpected. You'll find it..)**

**It just...it was awesome. It's still on BBC America's website right now, I think, so go check it out! THe new one comes on right after Doctor WhO! EEEEp! Can't wait. Two happy attacks in a row!**

**Also, has anyone noticed how James Patterson is popping out books like a Catholic rabbit? Didn't he have a book come out a few months ago? How long does it take him to write a murder mystery, get it edited, and then published? Does he glue himself to the seat, and force himself to write (been there, done that) Meanwhile, other authors are taking decades to publish the next book of a series I am reading, and I just...yeah, I don't know. I saw a preview for his new book, and I remembered seeing one a few months ago, and it baffles me…**

**Also, my iPod is completely broken :) Planning on selling it for parts, though, and then using that money to buy a new one on ebay. Freakin' yay...**

**Anyway, sorry, I'm rambling, I'll stop...:)**

"I called Henry." John announced as we approached the table, but Sherlock spoke over him.

"Bet's off, sorry." I looked at John, wondering if he and Sherlock had made a bet while I wasn't paying attention, but John was just as confused as I was.

"What?" He asked, sitting down. I sat beside him.

"Bet?" Fletcher asked. Sherlock, didn't answer, just stared down at his watch.

"My plan needs darkness. Reckon we've got about another half an hour of light…"

"Wait, wait, what bet?" Fletcher asked.

"Oh. I bet John and Elizabeth here that you couldn't prove that you had seen the hound."

"Yeah, the guys at the pub said you could." John caught on.

"Well, you're gonna lose your money, mate." Fletcher told Sherlock.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I've seen it. Only about a month ago, up at the Hollow. It was foggy, mind – couldn't make much out."

" I see. No witnesses, I suppose." Sherlock guessed.

" No, but …"

"Never are."

"Wait." Fletcher said, showing Sherlock a photograph on his phone. "There." He said.

"Is that it?" Sherlock asked, as Fletcher turned the phone towards John and I. It was clear, at all, but I could make out a four legged figure, no telling the size, or even what kind of animal it was, no it was, no doubt, an animal of some kind. Not exactly proof, really. "Sorry, you two, I win."

"Wait, wait. That's not all." Fletcher put his phone away. "People don't like going up there, you know – to the Hollow. Gives them a ... bad sort of feeling."

"Oh, is it haunted. Is that supposed to convince me?" Sherlock laughed, putting his glass back down.

"Nah, don't be stupid, nothing like that, but I reckon there _is_ something out there – something from Baskerville, escaped."

"A clone, a super-dog?" Sherlock said, not attempting to hide his snigger.

"Maybe. God knows what they've been spraying on us all these years, or putting in the water. I wouldn't trust 'em as far as I could spit." Fletcher said.

"Is that the best you've got?"

Fletcher hesitated, now, leaning in closer, his voice low, speaking reluctantly.

" I had a mate once who worked for the MOD. One weekend we were meant to go fishin' but he never showed up – well, not 'til late. When he did, he was white as a sheet. I can see him now. "I've seen things today, Fletch," he said, "that I never wanna see again. _Terrible_ things." He'd been sent to some secret Army place – Porton Down, maybe; maybe Baskerville, or somewhere else. In the labs there – the really _secret_ labs, he said he'd seen ... terrible things. Rats as big as dogs, he said, and dogs …" He pulled a concrete cast from his pocket, a paw print on it, no larger than six feet long, from claw to the back of the paw. "... dogs the size of horses."

I looked over to John and Sherlock, Sherlock seemed surprised, while John was looking at Sherlock, a smile on his face.

"Er, we did say fifty." John reminded, and Sherlock got his wallet out, handing John and I both a fifty pound note, before walking.

"Ta." John said, finishing his drink, and we followed him, Fletcher smiling triumphantly.

* * *

"Sure you don't want to go?" John asked, as they went to the car. I nodded.

"Yeah, I can stay and unpack. And, the less people, the better, probably. Less questions, less stories to come up with…" I trailed off, and John nodded, understanding.

"Alright." he jumped into the Land Rover with Sherlock, and they drove off while I made my way to the room.

I had just finished unpacking my bag, when I got a text messege. Decided it wouldn't hurt to take a wee break, I picked my phone up, looking at the message.

**FROM: Mycroft H.**

**What is he doing?**

**MH**

I decided to answer.

**TO: Mycroft H.**

**No idea. Not with him at the moment. Sorry.**

I threw my phone back on the bed, and laid beside it.

I must have drifted off to sleep, because the sun was lower than it had been, and it was now streaming through the windows, the sky looking orange instead blue.

My phone dinged, again, a message from John, saying they had gone to Henry's, and then to the moore, so they would be back later than they thought. I sighed, realising there was nothing else left for me to do, and I didn't want to go walk around Grimpen Village by myself. Plus, it was getting kind of late…

And I was kind of hungry…

So I made my way to the small restaurant in the inn, where other patrons were already enjoying their dinner, and got a table for myself.

"Hey." John said, sitting down next to me. I jumped a little in surprise.

"Didn't know you guys were back." I said. He nodded.

"Got back a little while ago. We stopped by the room, but you were asleep. Have you already eaten?" he asked. I nodded.

"Yeah, sorry. Thought you guys were still out, and I got hungry." I apologized. "Where's Sherlock?"

"Sitting over there by the fire." he answered. I nodded.

"So, what about Henry?" I asked.

" Well, he is in a pretty bad way. He's manic, totally convinced there's some mutant super-dog roaming the moors." He explained. " And there isn't, though, is there? 'Cause if people knew how to make a mutant super-dog, we'd know."

"Probably." I shrugged a shoulder. "I mean, if I did, I would want to keep it a secret, but they could sell it-make money, maybe." I answered.

"Exactly, They'd be for _sale_. I mean, that's how it works." John agreed.

"So how did it go at the moore."  
"Well," John began. "We all heard something. Don't know what it was, though. Can't say it was a hound or anything, but…" He trailed off. "Sherlock was silent the whole way back."

"Nothing out of the usual." I said. John laughed a little.

"I tried talking to him. Thought maybe you could get something out of him." He suggested. I nodded, standing.

"I'll try."

I walked over to the empty seat beside Sherlock, who was staring at the fireplace, unmoving.

"Hey." I said quietly, sitting down. He looked at me, but said nothing. "You alright?" I asked, again, he said nothing. I sighed.

"Alright." I said, trying to think of what else I could say that would interest him… "How about the case? What do you guys know?" He still wasn't saying anything, so I continued on. "We know there's footprints...John said you all heard something when you went down there tonight…" I trailed off, hoping to get a reaction. Sherlock only let out a shaky breath, which made me worry slightly. "Maybe we should just look for whoever's got a big dog?" I suggested.

"Henry's right." He said, quietly.

"What?" I asked.

"Henry saw something. I saw it, too." Sherlock admitted, his voice shaking.

"Just...just a minute, you saw what, exactly."

"A hound, out there in the Hollow." He finally met my eyes. "A gigantic hound."

"Sherlock, we have to be rational about all of this, okay."

"Once you've ruled out the impossible, whatever remains – however improbable – must be true." he mumbled, quietly.

"Okay, what's that supposed to mean." Sherlock didn't answer, only reached for his glass, holding it up in the air.

"Look at me. I'm afraid." His hand was shaking. "Afraid."

"That's okay. Good, even. That's human." I shrugged. He took a drink, then held it up again, his hand still shaking.

" Always been able to keep myself distant …" He took another drink "... divorce myself from ... _feelings_. But look, you see …" He held the glass back up. " ... body's betraying me. Interesting, yes? Emotions." He put the glass back down, loudly. "The grit on the lens, the fly in the ointment."

I waited for a moment, waiting to see if he was finished.

"Okay, Spock, just take it easy, alright." I advised, calmly. He took a few more breaths, trying to get himself back under control, but he was failing.

"You've been pretty wired lately, you know you have. I think you've just gone out there and got yourself a bit worked up." I said

"'Worked up'."

"It was dark and scary...probably." I tried.

"Me?" He laughed, sarcastically. "There's nothing wrong with me."

"That's not what I was suggesting." I said, but it made no difference. He looked away, and it was almost as if he was, or was beginning to hyperventilate, and I panicked, placing a hand on his shoulder, but making sure not to get to close as to crowd him. He flinched away at first, but then relaxed, placing his fingers to his temples, groaning. I felt John's gaze, and he looked at his friend with concern, and then back to me. I only shrugged. He moved to stand, but I shook my head vigorously, as Sherlock looked back my way.

"Sherlock?" I asked, but got no answer. Sherlock's fingers were shaking against his temples. "Sher…" he cut me off, yelling.

"THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME!" he yelled, furious. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" A few of the customers turned to look, some ignored it (thank goodness) and I only smiled apologetically at them, embarrassed. Sherlock saw them too, but ignored them. "You want me to prove it, yes?" he asked, but I didn't get to answer before Sherlock went on.

" We're looking for a dog, yes, a great big dog, that's your brilliant theory. Cherchez le chien. Good, excellent, yes, where shall we start?" He turned back around, and I followed his gaze. The other customers had gone back to eating. "How about them? The sentimental widow and her son, the unemployed fisherman. The answer's yes."

"Yes?" I asked confused.

"She's got a West Highland terrier called Whisky. Not exactly what we're looking for."

"Sherlock," I pleaded, but he went on, as usual.

"Look at the jumper he's wearing. Hardly worn. Clearly he's uncomfortable in it. Maybe it's because of the material; more likely the hideous pattern, suggesting it's a present, probably Christmas. So he wants into his mother's good books. Why? Almost certainly money." He said, quickly. " He's treating her to a meal but his own portion is small. That means he wants to impress her, but he's trying to economise on his own food."

"Maybe he's not hungry." I guessed, but I was wrong.

"No, small plate. Starter. He's practically licked it clean. She's nearly finished her pavlova. If she'd treated him, he'd have had as much as he wanted. He's hungry all right, and not well-off – you can tell that by the state of his cuffs and shoes." he said, almost frantic, now. "'How d'you know she's his mother?'"

"Who else would give him a Christmas present like that? Well, it could be an aunt or an elder sister, but mother's more likely. Now, he _was_ a fisherman. Scarring pattern on his hands, very distinctive – fish hooks. They're all quite old now, which suggests he's been unemployed for some time. Not much industry in this part of the world, so he's turned to his widowed mother for help. "Widowed?" Yes, obviously. She's got a man's wedding ring on a chain round her neck – clearly her late husband's and too big for her finger. She's well-dressed but her jewellery's cheap. She could afford better, but she's kept it – it's sentimental. Now, the dog, tiny little hairs all over the leg from where it gets a little bit too friendly, but no hairs above the knees, suggesting it's a small dog, probably a terrier. In fact it _is_ – a West Highland terrier called Whisky. "How the hell do you know that, Sherlock?" 'Cause she was on the same train as us and I heard her calling its name and that's not cheating, that's listening. I use my senses, Elizabeth, unlike _some_people, so you see, I _am_ fine, in fact I've never been better, so just _Leave. Me. Alone." _He glared at me, as I stared at him in shock. Honestly, I felt like crying, tears barely brimming my eyes, but I blinked them away.

"Yeah, okay." I stared at the fire, trying to think of something else to say, but I had nothing. I scoffed. "I mean, why in the world would you listen to me? I'm just your wife. Your friend."

"I don't have friends." He replied.

"Well, I have no idea why." I said, walking back to the room.

**So this was a lot shorter than the others, but this seemed like a nice, or, well not nice….good part to end.**

**After this is posted, and I eat some food (or 'num num stuffs' as I like to call it :) ) I will begin the next chapter, so the gap shouldn't be too big, like it has been the past few times.**

**Reviews:**

_**I just want to say I love this story. I always get excited whenever you update! As for your question, "Before or after", I'd probably say after. Though I can only guess at what it means, I would say that you are asking "Before or after the fall". Now what are you asking about? The only thing I can come up with right now is a baby. They just got married, so that would most likely be the next step. So the question is now "Do you want Elizabeth to have a baby before or after the fall?", so I would say after because I don't think I want her to have to go through dealing with Sherlocks death with a baby. So my answer is after. Can't wait for you to update! **_

_**(My guess could be completely wrong, but my answer is still after)**_

_**~Anastasia4610**_

**Hello! I'm glad you love the story! I can't tell you if you're right or wrong, but thank you for your answer! That had been the most popular so far!**

**Hope you liked the chapter, and thank you so much for your review (love your name, by the way!)**

_**I have an idea as to what before or after might mean, so after. Love you're story!**_

**~MoSassy23**

**Hi!Thank you, so much for the compliment, happy you love it! Also, thank you for the answer. Like I told Anastasia, that has been the most popular so far! **

_**I am reviewing before I read the chapter. **_

_**After**_

**~Dream I Dare**

**Thank you for your answer!**

**Chapter 5:**

_**Love your reference to Phantom of the Opera.**_

**Chapter 20:**

_**I there aren't many episodes in the series and the time between each episode is usually very short (except for those two episodes (not putting any spoilers here)), but the whole proposal thing seemed a little rushed don't you think. It probably won't matter in the long run though it still feels weird to me.**_

_**Aqua Lilly**_

**I completely forgot that I put a reference in there, ha, ha! I usually do put a reference it it in each of my stories, because it's really special to me, and I thought I had totally forgotten to add one. Thank you for reminding me, and I'm glad you liked it, and got the reference! I know not a lot of people have seen it, so whenever I see or met someone who has, it's so exciting for me.**

**I agree with you, a little, that the proposal was a little rushed, but it was one of those things where I saw an opportunity, and I took it, and it just kind of...happened. I just kept writing, not really thinking about it, like I said, it just happened. I so agree with you, though. It was kind of soon, and I was extremely worried about. It felt a little weird to me, too, at first, especially after I posted the chapter.**

**Thank you for the reviews, and thank you for being honest, I really appreciate it.**

**There's the last review :)**

**So, I've been doing music suggestions ever so often (which I thought I was going to get to do every chapter, but I'm forgetful….) and this time, I want to suggest: Twenty One Pilots, my favorite song by them being 'Screen'. They're not for everyone, every band/artist is like that, but I really like them, and I thought maybe someone else might, too, and just haven't found them. Also, since it's close to Halloween (Eeep!) I want to suggest another band, with Ryan Gosling, Dead Man's Bones. They are a indie rock group, and all of there songs are Halloween themed, my favorite(s) being 'In the Room Where You Sleep', and 'My Body's a Zombie for You'.**

**Anyway, I'll catch you later :)**

**~Eruaphadriel**


	32. Chapter 32

**Hi :)**

**So I asked this question awhile back, about Elizabeth's appearance, because I never really specified what she looked like, and I think I'm going to add that in now, because some of the answers I really liked (I did a coin toss, guys, no kidding…and I asked my sister…and my mom…)**

**I don't feel really well, today, so I don't know what this chapter is going to look like, really… I think it's low BP, so I'm trying to get it up as I write (lots of water, crackers, that sort of thing), but it happens when I get out of the shower, and I'm usually really dizzy and I have a headache, and can't breath for hours afterwards. I just found out it was my BP, actually, so I'm going to start doing things to help keep it up, so hopefully it won't happen as much. If anyone has any suggestions as to how I can do this, please help me out.**

**But like I said, I really don't know what this chapter is going to be like, so, brace yourselves…:/**

**Another Fun Happy announcement: I will be doing another book based off of this one. It's going to be a series of oneshots, ones that didn't quite make it into this story, mainly because they were just kind of fluffy fillers, but I am going to include some cases as well, but they won't pertain to this story's plot. Just little extras.**

**So if you would like to see some more fluffy Elizalock moments, go check it out! Should be up already, with two little chapters, if not PM me...I may have changed the date I was going to post it… Also, if you really really want to, you guys can request some stuff as well, which I think is going to be really fun.**

John followed me out, calling my name, and I stopped for him in the parking lot.

"What happened? Are you alright?" John asked, concerned. I shook my head, but then nodded, making John even more confused.

"Ye...I'm fine, I don't know about…" I waved towards the building, and John nodded.

"Are you sure?" he asked, and I nodded again.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I think I'm just going to head to bed." I said, looking towards my shoes.

"Alright. Just text me if you need anything, I think I'll go in there and get supper."

"'Kay." I said.

"But, what about Sherlock?"  
"What about him?" I asked, shrugging.

"Well, you're going on to bed, I highly doubt you two want to sleep in the same room. You seem pretty upset, no doubt he is too, so…" he trailed off. I shrugged again.

"If he wants to get another room, fine, he can get another room, I won't blame him. If he doesn't, again, fine. I don't care." I said, and I honestly didn't. "'Night." I said, turning in the other direction. He smiled, said, "Good Night.", and let me go.

"Sherlock and John still hadn't come back after I had gotten out of the shower (which, this time, took about an hour). I thought they would have been.

I went straight to bed afterwards, but was unable to sleep, so I just laid there, staring at the ceiling.

An hour later, I heard someone coming down the hallway, and jiggle the doorknob, so I quickly shut my eyes, and slowed my breathing, as if I were really asleep.

The person who came in, sighed as soon as they entered the room, throwing, what I guessed was their coat, on the other bed, their shoes hitting the floor.

They paused for a minute, then I heard them moving about the room, drawers opening and closing, then the blankets were pulled back and I felt the bed dip, slightly.

"Elizabeth." I heard Sherlock whisper. I didn't answer. I just kept my breathing slow, and my eyes closed. "I know you're not asleep, Elizabeth, and you don't have to acknowledge me, I just want you to know that…" he sighed. "That I was awful, and I'm sorry."

I stayed silent for a minute and he turned away from me, and I drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Sherlock was awake before I was, already out of the room. I checked my phone for any messages, and I had one from john, saying he was in the church graveyard if I wanted to join him later on. I got dressed, and walked that way, having to ask a few pedestrians for directions.

"Hey." I greeted. John was sitting on some steps, looking through his notebook. "U.M.Q.R.A.. What's that?" I asked.

"Nothing." John answered, quickly. "I thought I was onto something…"  
"Did you bring this up to Sherlock? Could relate to the case somehow." I guessed, but John shook his head.

"Trust me, E, it really doesn't."

"Okay…" I said, my curiosity spiked. "What is it, then? What does it mean?"

"It means absolutely nothing, Elizabeth, I promise, you really do not want to know."

"How do you know I don't want to know."

"Because I know you, and you'll get all awkward, and it's not...just, I promise you, you don't want to. It's not good."

"Fine, then." I said, turning away, pretending to be upset. "I didn't care anyway."

"Elizabeth." John said, laughing slightly.

"Did you, er, get anywhere with that morse code." Sherlock asked, from a distance, walking towards us.

"See, he wants to know, too. Democracy John, two against one, tell us." I whispered, but he shood me away, laughing.

"No." He said, stepping down from the stairs, and walking away. I followed him.

"U.M.Q.R.A was it?" He asked. I nodded, but John didn't answer, he just kept walking.

"UMQRA?" He said it as a whole word.

"Nothing." John spoke up.

"U.M.Q…"

"Look, forget it, I thought I was onto something, and I wasn't" John said, giving the same excuse he gave me.

"Sure?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah."

"How about Louise Mortimer? Did you get anywhere with her?" Sherlock asked. I was confused, but kept my peace.

"No." John answered.

"Too bad. Did you get any information?" John smiled for a second, looking back at Sherlock over his shoulder.

"You being funny now?"

"Thought I might break the ice a bit." He shrugged a shoulder.

"Funny doesn't suit you. I'd stick to ice." He looked at one of the buildings nearby, pointing to it with his thumb. "I'm going to go get some chips. Want some?" he asked, and I shook my head, as did Sherlock.

I was going to follow him, though, but Sherlock caught my arm.

"Elizabeth, wait." I turned around to face him.

"It's fine." I said, already knowing what he was going to say, just from the pained expression on his face.

"No, No, wait. What happened last night ... Something happened to me; something I've not really experienced before …"

"Yes, you said: fear. Sherlock Holmes got scared." I reminded him.

"No-no-no, it was more than that. It was doubt. I felt doubt. I've _always_ been able to trust my senses, the evidence of my own eyes, until last night."

"You can't actually believe you saw some monster." I said.

"No, I _can't_ believe that." He grinned. "But I did see it, so the question is: how? _How?"_

"Well, there you go. Now you have something to go on." I said, patting his shoulder with a small smile.

"What I said, before, I meant it. I don't have friends. I just have one."

"That one friend being John, right?" I asked, and he nodded. I let out a breath of a laugh.

"Maybe you'll listen to him, then." I said, but he ignored me.

"But you're my wife." He went on. "I think that surpassed friendship, in most ways, don't you think?"

I thought for a second, shrugging a shoulder. "In some ways it does, yeah. Depending on how you look at it. Yeah." I nodded, with a small smile. Sherlock smiled a little aswell, and John rejoined us, crips in his hand. We started to walk again.

"John?" Sherlock called from behind us. "John!" John only ignored him, and kept walking.

" You are amazing! You are fantastic! You've never been the most luminous of people, but as a conductor of light you are unbeatable."

"Cheers...what?" he asked, turning around.

"Some people who aren't geniuses have an amazing ability to stimulate it in others."

"Go on: what have I done that's so bloody stimulating?"

Sherlock took John's notebook, and began writing, showing John what he had written when we reached the entrance of the pub.

**Hound**

"Yeah?" John asked. Sherlock began writing again.

"But what if it's not a word? What if it is individual letters?"

He turned the notebook around again.

**H.O.U.N.D**

"You think it's an acronym?" I asked.

"Absolutely no idea, but…" he frowned at the pub doors, then stormed into the pub.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?" He asked. Detective Inspector Lestrade turned around to look at him.

"Well, nice to see you, too. I'm on holiday, would you believe it." he explained.

"No, I wouldn't." Sherlock answered.

"Hullo, John, Elizabeth." he greeted us, as we walked closer.

"Greg!" I exclaimed, smiling.

"I heard you were in the area. What are you up to? Are you after this Hound of Hell like on the telly?" He asked, I nodded, about to agree, but Sherlock cut me off.

"I'm waiting for an explanation, Inspector. Why are you here?" he asked.

"I've told you: I'm on holiday."

"You're brown as a nut. You're clearly just _back_ from your 'holidays.'" Sherlock observed. Lestrade tried to look nonchalant.

"Yeah, well I fancied another one."

" Oh, this is Mycroft, isn't it?" Sherlock asked.

"No, look…" Sherlock cut Lestrade off.

"Of _course_ it is! One mention of Baskerville and he sends down my handler to ... to spy on me incognito. Is that why you're calling yourself Greg?"

"That's his name." John interjected.

"Is it?"

"Yes." Lestrade answered, obviously annoyed.

" – if you'd ever bothered to find out. Look, I'm not your handler ... "He took is drink from the bar "... and I don't just do what your brother tells me."

"Actually, you could be just the man we need." John said.

"Really?" I asked, confused. John nodded, pointing to my coat pocket.

"I haven't been idle. Do you still have that receipt?" He asked. I nodded, pulling it out of my coat pocket, and handed it to him.

" Here. Didn't know if it was relevant; starting to look like it might be. That is an awful lot of meat for a vegetarian restaurant."

"Excellent." Sherlock commented.

" Nice scary inspector from Scotland Yard who can put in a few calls might come in very handy." John said to convince him, then slammed his hand on the bell at the bar. "Shop!"

**Another short chapter, yet again, but, again, seemed like a good place to stop.**

**So, I have an assignment due at 6:00 tonight. I have it finished, typed, and ready ot send to my teacher...I worked kind of hard on it, and I have no way to get it in to him, because the website won't let me log in! I am already almost failing this class (I have a D, I think), and I can't afford to miss another assignment. It's almost 5:40 now, and I don't know what to dooo! ASjalfkndssjdnfosjdan gah I hate the internet sometimes….**

**Anyway, just a reminder, Elizalock fluffy oneshots are on the way, the first one already posted. I honestly didn't know what to do, so like I said, send in some requests! I will write almost anything :)**

**REviews:  
****-**

_**Great**_

**~WRose**

**Thank you! I promise, I have been working on your request, and I've had a blast! I don't know when exactly I'll get it posted, since I'm still kind of working on an outline for it, trying to figure out what all I'm going to do, but I'm excited about it, and I hope it's good enough!  
Thank you, again, for your review, and I hope you've enjoyed this chapter as well! :)**

_**Belladonna Took:Agh, this review's going to be quite long because I didn't review chapter 30 in time before this one was released xD**_

_**(R.I.P your ipod. It has gone the way of Elizabeth's shoes)**_

_**I hope you figure something out about the film and that your headaches get better because neither of the situations sound fun at. all. **_

_**And also, don't worry about the very small and not very noticeable grammar/capitalization/spelling mistakes. Also, on the before/after thing: firstly, it's very annoying as I don't know anything apart from the fact it's a question asking "before or after?", and secondly, my answer is after (I hope I don't regret this XD) **_

_**This chapter WAS short, but I think it was a good stopping point. Speaking of chapters, I'd definitely read it if you were to write a fic of one-shots of things that nearly made it into the final cut (really can't think of a better phrase than that)**_

_**I don't really have anything to say about the chapters themselves, they're all up to scratch as usual XD**_

_**EAGERLY AWAITING THE NEXT CHAPTER! (and fluffy Elizalock moments)**_

_**~Belladonna Took**_

**Hello, doll. **

**I'm going to have to do something about my iPod...I have been going crazy without it. I don't know how else I'm going to document important moments in my life with the camera (which translates into:I can no longer take horrendous selfies for social media), nor can I listen to music (which translates into: It's going to be a lot harder to ignore my family, and force my music into their ears in the car…), nor can I read anything (translation: i have nothing to do in the bathroom), so something is going to have to be done about that.**

**My sister and her friend are going to be over this weekend, so I think we might get to do something about it, I'll have to talk to my sister, but I hope so too. And my headaches are getting better, I still get them daily, but they're not as bad as they were.**

**I don't think you'll regret it ;)  
And you get the one-shots! They'll be up sometimes after this one is, so go look for it, if you're still interested.**

**Thank you for your review! Hope all is well!**

**Nothing else to say, so I'll let you go about your night/day!**

**Thanks!  
~Eruaphadriel**


	33. Chapter 33

**I have an explanation as to why this is so late, and I am so, so very sorry it has taken so long for me to write.**

**I've gone to the doctor today, which I will get into a little bit later, but I haven't been feeling very well. Headaches, sleeping a lot, and my throat and ears have been bothering me off and on. Also, my glands have been swollen, but when we went to the doctor last week, they said it was drainage, turning into a throat infections, prescribed some antibiotics, and sent me home. It didn't help, though, and I feel worse than I did. There's not as much drainage, and my throat isn't as irritated, but it still hurts, and my ears haven't gotten better, either. I would come home from school, sleep all day, and then sleep all night, so we went again tonight.**

**The doctor went ahead and sent me to the lab to draw blood (yikes!) and test for Mono. The test came back negative, but it only test positive for a short amount of time, before going negative again. Also my blood count suggests something viral is going on, so they sent it somewhere else to test for another virus connected to Mono, and we will get the results back next week.**

**I'm not contagious, really, unless someone eats or drinks after me, which no one ever does anyway, but everything's kind of okay now. They gave me some steroids, so I can get through the day without sleeping so much.**

**Also, my sister and I are getting skin suits/morph suits, and I am so excited, it's going to be so fun!**

**This episode it so hard to write! I'm not a fan of writing it…**

**Thought I would let you guys know that the one shot story is out, and the first chapter is up. I picked that prompt as a started, it seemed like a good place to start…**

**Also, does anyone know of a good beta reader who would beta my story, or would any of you guys like to do it? I don't know, I just kinda feel like my chapters are becoming...meh…**

**SOMETHING you guys NEED to try is Akinator! It's like 20 questions, but you choose a character, and answer some questions, and the Akinator guesses who it is. It's amazing. At first I did a few of my favorite characters, like Daenerys Targaryen, and Sherlock (BBC), then I tried Mike Stamford, and it guessed it right! It's mind blowing...I highly recommend it!**

Greg was sorting through some paperwork, while Gary and Billy eyed him anxiously. Sherlock came from behind John and I, offering us both a mug of coffee.

"What's this?" John asked.

"Coffee." Sherlock answered.  
"You never make coffee." John argued.

"I just did. Do you want it?" he asked, handing out a mug to me as well.

"You don't have to keep apologizing." I joked, taking the mug. John took his, reluctantly.

"Thanks." He said, as I took a sip of mine, and looked at John, who was struggling to keep his face neutral, disgust evident.

"I don't take…" he trailed off. "It's good. Thank you." He said.

"These records go back nearly two months." Lestrade announced, still sifting through the papers. "Is that when you had the idea? After the TV show went out?"

"It was me." Billy said. "It was me." he turned to his partner. "I'm sorry Gary, I couldn't help it. I had a bacon sandwich at Cal's wedding, and one thing led to another and…"

"Nice try." Lestrade said. Billy lowered his head.

"Look, we were just trying to give things a bit of a boost, you know?" Gary admitted. "A great big dog running wild up on the moore? It was heaven-sent. It was like us having our own Lochness Monster."

"Where do you keep it?" Lestrade asked them.

"There's an old mineshaft. It's not too far. It was all right there."

"'Was?'" Sherlock asked. Gary sighed.

"We couldn't control the bloody thing. It was vicious. And then, a month ago, Billy took him to the vet, and...er...you know." He finished.

"It's dead?" John questioned.

"Put down." They confirmed.

"Yeah, no choice." Billy explained. "So it's over."

"It was just a joke."

"Yeah, hilarious." Lestrade stood. "You've nearly driven a man out of his mind."  
He walked out of the room, and we followed close behind, leaving Billy and Gary on their own, mine and John's coffee mugs abandoned on one of the tables.

"You know, he's actually pleased you're here." John said, looking at Lestrade, before Sherlock had exited the pub. Greg gave him a look.

"Secretly pleased." i corrected. Greg nodded.

"Is he?" he asked. "That's nice. I suppose he likes having all of the same faces back together. Appeals to his...his…"

"Aspergers." I suggested as Sherlock stepped out of the pub, glaring at me. I only smiled. "Hello, dear." I greeted, as if nothing had happened.

"So do you believe him about having the dog destroyed?" Greg asked. Sherlock turned to him.

"No reason not to."

"Well, hopefully, there's no harm done." Greg continued. "Not quite sure what I'd charge them with, anyway. I'll have a word with the local force." He nodded. "Right, well, that's that, then. Catch you later." Greg grinned. "I'm enjoying this! It's nice to get London out of your lungs." Lestrade walked away.

"So what about the dog everyone saw at the moore. Was it theirs?" I wondered out loud, looking to Sherlock.

"Looks like it." Sherlock nodded.

"What about what you saw?" I asked. "That wasn't an ordinary dog."

"No." He confirmed. "It was immense, had burning red eyes, and it was glowing. It's whole body was glowing."He shuddered, then turned towards the car park.

"I've got a theory, but I need to get back to Baskerville to test it."

"How? Can't pull off the ID trick again." John told him.

"Might not have to."

John turned to me. "Are you staying?" he asked. Sherlock turned around.

"You'll want to come. Trust me." He nodded. I shrugged a shoulder.

"Why not?" I asked, walking along with my brother, Sherlock's mouth turned up in a smile, as he got his phone from his pocket, hitting a few buttons, and putting it up to his ear.

"Hello, brother dear. How are you?"

* * *

The Land Rover came to a stop in front of the gates at Baskerville, and a security guard made his way over to Sherlock's side.

"Afternoon, sir." he greeted. "If you could turn the engine off."

Sherlock handed the man his ID, and switched the car off.

"Thank you." The guard went to swipe his card, while other guards check the outside of the car.

"I need to see Major Berrymore as soon as we get inside." Sherlock told us.

"Right."

"Which means you'll have to start the search for the hound." he told John.

"Okay."

"In the labs; Stapleton's first." the guard brought back the ID card, handing it back over to Sherlock.

"Could be dangerous." he said quietly, as the gate slid open, and Sherlock restarted the car, driving through.

* * *

"Oh, you know I'd love to." The Major said, sarcastically, to Sherlock and I. Sherlock had drug me along with him as soon as we were inside, leaving John to search for the hound on his own. I didn't think it was safe, really, letting him go search for the 'demon hound' on his own, but Sherlock reassured me that John could take care of himself, and everything was going to be just fine. It still didn't stop me from worrying, though. "I would love to give you unlimited access to the place. Why not?"

"It's a simple request, Major." Sherlock tried.

"I've never heard of anything so bizarre."

"You're to give my twenty-four hours." Sherlock demanded. "It's what I've...negotiated."  
"Not a second more." he said, sternly. "I may have to comply with this order, but I don't have to like it." He spun around to his computer at his desk, and Sherlock and I began to walk out of the office.

"Obviously." I mumbled, causing a corner of Sherlock's mouth to rise in a smile.

"I don't know what you expect to find here, anyway." The Major said.

"Perhaps the truth." Sherlock answered him.

"About what?" He asked. "Ah, I see. The big coat should have told me. You're one of those conspiracy lot, aren't you?"  
Sherlock only rolled his eyes.

"Well, then, go ahead, seek them out, the monsters, the death rays, the aliens."

"Do you have any of those?" Sherlock asked, nonchalant. The Major glared.

"A couple. Crashed here in the sixties. We call them Abbott, and Costello." He answered, sarcastically, and I couldn't help but let out a little laugh.  
"Good luck, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes." He said, before turning his back on us again.

* * *

"What are we doing in here?" I asked. Sherlock smiled.

"Having fun."

"I thought we were supposed to be working."

"Who said work wasn't fun? My work is fun."

"Sometimes." I answered, shrugging a shoulder. he turned around and looked at me, an expression of mock hurt on his face.

"I thought you loved working with me."

"I do, other than the times I am kidnapped, and almost killed by deranged psychopaths who stalk me and mom, apparently, on facebook, and some crazy Chinese gang, and-"

"Alright, I get it, some of it isn't fun, but don't focus on the negatives."

"Believe me, I try to repress those memories."

Sherlock sat down in a chair in front of a desk of monitors. I placed a hand on the back of the chair, leaning down to get a closer look at the monitors.

"You don't mind playing a joke on John, do you?" he asked.

"What?"

But he provided no further explanation. Instead he watched as John entered the room we were watching, looking around the place, completely unaware he was being watched. After a few seconds, Sherlock smiled.

"Let there be light." he said, flipping a switch. As soon as he did so, the lights in the lab John was in, came on. John brought a hand up to shield his eyes, as an alarm began to blare.

He made his way towards the lift, and scanned his card, but it wasn't reading it.

"What have you done?" I asked with a laugh.

"You'll see."

The alarm blared a few more times, before all of the lights were cut off, the emergency ones going on. John looked through his pockets, finding his flashlight, though it wasn't much use.

He began to look around the room, looking in cages. Two had been opened, but when he threw the sheet off of the third cage, a monkey threw itself at him, causing John to jump back.

We watched as he then moved to the fourth cage, where the sheet had been pushed back a little. He moved it to reveal a cage that was opened, and empty, the bottom of it, from what I could see, looked as if it were bent back by something.

John spun around the room, looking around, before spinning around again, startled.

"Sherlock, what's going on?" I asked, but he didn't answer.

John rushed to the door, but was unable to get it open, swiping his card again and again. Then, he pulled his phone from his pocket, dialing a number, and Sherlock's phone began to ring.

"Is that John?" I asked.

"Yup."

"Well, aren't you going to answer it."

"No."

I sighed.

He put his phone back in his pocket, and looked around the room, before trying the card again. Instead of swiping it, though, his head snapped to his right. He stared for a moment, before shoving the card back in his pocket, putting a hand over his mouth.

"Sherlock,"  
"He'll be fine, Elizabeth, I promise."

John ran across the room, making his way to one of the empty cages, bolting it, and pulling the sheet down over it to hide himself from whatever he was afraid of. I had seen John afraid once or twice, but never like this.

Sherlock picked up his cellphone, and dialed John's number, putting it on speaker, as he rose from the chair, walking out of the room. I followed him out.

"I thought you said this was a joke."

"It is, there's nothing there." he explained.

"Then what is-"

"Shh." he whispered, as John picked up the phone.

"It's here, it's in here with me." John whispered over the phone.

"Where are you?" Sherlock asked him, sounding genuinely concerned, even though he turned his head, and giggled quietly.

"Get me out, Sherlock. You have to get me out. THe big lab; the first lab that we saw."

I heard John whine in terror.

"What's he so afraid of?" I asked, softly.

"John? John?"

"Now, Sherlock, please."

"All right, We'll find you, just keep talking."

"I can't. It'll hear me."

"_Keep talking._" Sherlock demanded again. "What are you seeing?"

"Nothing." I whispered, even though I knew he wasn't talking to me. He sent me a glare, but laughed as well as he said John's name again, into the phone.  
"Yes, I'm here." He answered.

"What can you see?"

"I don't know. I don't know, but I can hear it, though." He said, then paused for a moment. "Did you hear that?"  
"Hear what?" I asked, looking to Sherlock, thinking maybe he would have heard it, but he didn't answer...again.

"Stay calm. Stay calm. Can you see it?" John didn't answer. "Can you see it?" He repeated.

"No, I can…" He stopped, and I panicked, beginning to walk faster.

"Sherlock get him out." I demanded. Sherlock moved the phone away from him.

"Elizabeth, I promise you John is perfectly safe. There's nothing in there." he whispered, bringing the phone back up, as he opened a lab door, and snuck in, holding it open for me. I shut the door, soundlessly, and we walked across the lab to one of the cages. I stayed close to Sherlock, hanging onto his sleeve as we walked towards the cage John was hidden in.

"I _can_ see it." he answered. "It's here. It's here." he said flatly.

Sherlock grabbed the end of the sheet, and slung it over the cage, opening the door, while I went over to turn on the light.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked, bending down and placing a hand on his shoulder. "John?"

"Jesus Christ…" John grabbed the bars and stood up, walking out of the cage. "It was the hound, Sherlock, I swear it, Sherlock. It must…" He glanced around the lab again, and I walked to rejoin them. "It must…" He repeated.

"It's alright. It's okay." Sherlock assured him.

"No, it's _NOT!_ It's _not_ okay!" He yelled at Sherlock. "I saw it, I was wrong."

"Well, let's not jump to conclusions." Sherlock told him.

"What?"

"What did you see?" He asked.

"I told you: I saw the hound."

"Huge? Red eyes?" Sherlock questioned. John nodded.

"Yeah."

"Glowing?"

"Yes."

"No." Sherlock corrected.  
"What?"

"I made up the bit about the glowing. You saw what you expected to see because I told you. You have been drugged. We have all been drugged."  
"Drugged?"

"Can you walk?" he asked John.

"Yeah, 'course I can walk."

"Come on, then. Time to lay this ghost."

He turned for the door, but I hung back with John, who was still trying to regain his breath.

"You alright?" I asked.

"I don't-I don't know. Come on." He said, and we followed after Sherlock.

**Blah.**

**So it's short, and I'm sorry, but not as short as some of the previous chapters. I usually have a 7 page limit (not limit, really, but GOAL, is more accurate, though I DO try to keep it 7 pages) and this one is only 6...not too bad..**

**SO, so, so, so, so, I am freaking out right now!  
I have been looking for songs... mostly for the next episode, not only to help me write, but to suggest to you guys, that kind of go along with the chapter, so I found some fanmixes….ASDFGHJKL!**

**There are 2 that I know of that I'm super excited about, but I shan't say which ones...only that when I heard it I was hyperventilating thinking about it, and almost cried, to be honest. I can't wait to write the next episode, now :)**

**REVIEWS!**

**Hi**

**Your chapter is fantastic.**

**Saw your comment, let's see what you will cook up!**

**~WRose**

**-  
Hello! So nice to hear from you? How've you been?**

**I can't wait to really get into it! The planning is ALMOST finished, just putting on the last finishing touches, and then I'll be ready to write. Sorry it has taken so long, but with a request, I always stress about getting it right, and getting it perfect, and just how you want it, so it takes a lot longer for me to plan out, but I am super excited about it! I've never done anything like this before, so it is a bit of a challenge, but I promise to do my best, and thank you again so much for the request! I love it!**

**Hope all is well!**

**Wonderful story. I will fav and follow!**

**~Noxy the Proxy**

AH! Thank you so much! It means a lot to me! Glad you like it!

**-  
****My imaginings (is that a word?) of Elizabeth were a bit strange (red/ginger hair and green eyes) as I'm not entirely sure how that is even possible? Unless she dyed her hair. Or there was a generation-skipping gene. I don't even know why I imagined her like that..**

**Blonde curls (and I'm currently imagining hazel/brown eyes) sounds more like Elizabeth, and make her and John look more like siblings. I'm stoked for the one shots! Reading third person was a bit weird after reading in first-person for so long. Not that its bad, its just different. I should start reviewing on the one shots themselves, my reviews are long enough without reviewing something else on top of the chapter.**

**Moving on to the chapter i came to review: on one hand, its strange having the chapters being shorter than usual (also means less reading), on the other hand I really like the stopping points (just realised that sounds like "yay the chapters done finally I can go on with the rest of my life" which isn't what I was going for, I was going more for the kind of cliffhanger (can they be called cliffhangers if I already know what's going to happen?) aspect) and the scenes in this chapter are some of my favourites from the series (aka: watching Sherlock mess up Lestrade's first name is always great) and I like the way this episode is going so far, and the exchange between Elizalock towards the beginning of the chapter :D**

**Oh god, this review is even longer than usual... whoops**

**EAGERLY AWAITING THE NEXT CHAPTER!**

**~Belladonna**

**I actually read up on this, because I thought about red hair, and green eyes, and the red hair gene actually can, and does, skip generations, and a lot of families don't even know that they have a red-hair gene, and then they have a kid with red hair, which would kind of be awkward, but it does happen very often. They've done a whole study on it in the UK.**

**I like the hazel/brown eyes. When I asked my sister, though, she said 'I don't see Sherlock with a blond…..nope.' Suprise! I don't listen to her at all…**

**Sorry about the third-person, but I thought it would be something different, and a little more interesting. The second one was in third person, too (Sorry!), but I think the next one, which I am SUPER excited about, is going to be in first!**

**I'm glad you're liking it so far, and I'm sorry about the short chapters. This one, and I think maybe the next few afterwards are going to be longer. And I'm happy you liked the exchange at the beginning. I was really worried about that part, but I'm glad you liked it!**

**That's all, folks. See ya soon!**

**~Eruaphadriel**


	34. Chapter 34

**Hey, guys! how are ya?**

**Good news, no Mono, bad news, we have no idea what it is, so we had to wait it out. Feeling a lot better, though.**

**Also, I also got a new iPod WHICH will help with writing tremendously! So no more super duper long waits…**

**Also, I was given two very comical writing prompt from another friend, very short ones, but very funny which I am going to try to write shortly, so that'll be fun!**

**Anyway, here it is!**

We made our way, quickly, to another lab. It was smaller than the other one, and occupied by a woman Sherlock told me was Dr. Stapleton. She was examining a fluffy white bunny as we walked in, but looked up once we came through the door.

"Oh, back again?" She asked. "What's on your mind this time."

"Murder." He answered. I mentally face palmed. "Refined, cold blooded murder." He turned the lights off, the only light coming from the window on the far side of the room, and a...rabbit...?

"You...you see it too, right?" I asked John.

"the glowing rabbit? Yeah."

"Okay." I sighed, glad I wasn't going insane.

Sherlock turned the lights back on.

"Will you tell little Kirsty what's happened to Bluebell, or shall I?" He asked. I stepped forward a little.

"You telling her is probably the better option." I offered, remembering the time when Sherlock told two young girls that their grandfather didn't go the heaven, and that people didn't go there, they were taken to a room, and burned, and then the time that he told another child, even younger than the other two, that Santa wasn't real, and he was really adopted. I'm kind of surprised we haven't gotten a therapy bill from him yet, he seemed pretty distraught.

"Okay, what do you want?" She asked, sighing.

"Can I use your microscope?" I poked his arm. He sighed. "And I think my wife wants to hold your rabbit."

I grinned and nodded.

* * *

She led us to another, larger, lab with a better microscope. Sherlock sat there, unmoving, but obviously becoming more and more frustrated, not pleased with whatever it was he was seeing. He turned away from the 'scope, hands in their usual prayer position, or he would scribble on the table in different makers and pens. John and I, though, Sat on stools, John staring off into space while I cuddled Bluebell, rubbing behind his ears, and his back, his leg thumping against mine, causing me to giggle at how cute he was.

"are you sure you're alright?" Dr. S asked John. "You're looking very peaky."

"No, I'm alright."

"It was the GFP gene from a jellyfish, in case you're wondering." She continued.

"What?" I asked.

"In the rabbits."

"Oh, right, yeah.

I held Bluebell up in the air in front of me, looking him in the eye. He only turned his head, and yawned. I pulled him back to my lap, smiling.

"Aequorea Victoria, if you really want to know."  
"Why?" I asked.

"Why not?" She responded. "We don't ask questions like that here. It isn't done." I turned back to Sherlock, who was visible growing more and more aggravated.

"Sherlock, you okay?" I asked. He only grunted, and I held out Bluebell. "You want to hold him? Animals supposedly help stress and tension, and improve your mood." I suggested, but he only shook his head.

"No, but thank you."

"Alright, but it's prove. The bunny helps." I said, nodding at Bluebell, as I turned him, looking into his eyes again. John laughed beside of me. "What?"

"You. Such a child."

"Heh, I know." I giggled.

"There was a mixup, anyway. My daughter ended up with one of the lab specimens, so poor Bluebell had to go." She explained.

"Your compassion is underwhelming." John responded cynically.

"I know." She mocked. "I hate myself sometimes."

"So come on then, you can trust me-I'm a doctor, and Elizabeth here has no social life to speak of, apart from two friends she barely talks to, and a few dozen stray cats, but what are they going to say? What else have you got hidden up here?" John asked.

"Hey, I have a social life, and I talk to Sarah and Molly a lot, actually, you're always at work, don't I?" I turned around to Sherlock, hoping he would defend me, but he said nothing, sighing, grabbing another slide.

"Notice she's not denying the cats." I heard John mumble.

"Yeah, no, he's right, I know of a lot of stray cats." I nodded. John nodded along with me, as I rose, carrying Bluebell along with me, as I walked over to Sherlock.

"Hey, sweetie. Not finding anything?" I asked.

"Nothing."

"I'm sorry. Need any help? An outside eye, maybe?" I offered.

"Mmmm, not right now, no."

"Alright." I said, looking at a few slides he had beside his microscope.

"Sugar." he said.

"Yeah?" I said, knowing he wasn't addressing me, but still, he smiled a little.

"Not you, on the slides. It's sugar."

"Oh. From?"

"Henry's."

"Why are you looking at sugar, sugar?"

His eyes cut to the side, glaring at me. I smiled, but he didn't answer.

I sat there for another minute, still petting Bluebell.

"I'm going to throw these against the wall." He stated obviously furious.

"Do it. I dare you." I challenged. He stared at me for a moment, before taking the slide out from underneath the microscope.

"Sherlock I was kidding."  
"I wasn't." He said through gritted teeth, as he hurled it at the wall.

"Sherlock!" John yelled.

"It's not there!" He explained. "Nothing there! Doesn't make sense."

"What are you expecting to find?" Dr. Stapleton asked.

"A drug, of course. There has to be a drug- a hallucinogenic or a deliriant of come kind. There's no trace of anything in the sugar."

"Sugar?" John asked.

"Yes." Sherlock answered. "It's a simple process of elimination. I saw the hound- saw it as my imagination expected me to see it; a genetically engineered monster. But I knew I couldn't believe the evidence of my own eyes, so there were seven possible reasons for it, the lost possible being narcotics. Henry Knight-he saw it too but you didn't, John. You didn't see it. Now, we have eaten and drunk exactly the same things since we got to Grimpen apart from one thing: you don't take sugar in your coffee." He explained.

"I see, so…"

"I took it from Henry's kitchen-his sugar." He glared at the microscope. "It's perfectly alright."

"Maybe it's not a drug." I suggested.

"It _has _to be a drug."

"I take sugar, but when we were watching the cameras I didn't see anything at all, while John did."

He sat back down placing his head in his hands.

"But how did it get into our systems? How?" He asked to no one in particular. "There has to be something…something...ah, something…"

His eyes snapped open.

"Get out." He commanded.

"What?" Stapleton asked.

"Get out. I need to go to my mind palace."

"Your what?"

"Oh, his mind palace." John explained. "It's a memory technique, sort of a mental map. You plot a map with a location- it doesn't have to be real- and then you deposit memories there that...theoretically you can never forget anything: all you have to do is find your way back to it."

"So this imaginary location can be anything-a house or street?"

"Yup." I nodded.

"But he said palace. He said it was a palace." She reminded.

"He would, wouldn't he." John said, Stapleton and I following home out of the room, and into the hallway.

I sat in the floor, letting Bluebell down in front of me, keeping an eye on him so he doesn't get away.

"We should get a pet." I said.

"You know Sherlock is not going to be happy about that."

"Wouldn't hurt to ask." I shrugged a shoulder. "Maybe not a bunny though. Maybe a cat...not a dog though."

"Why not a dog?" John asked. "We could get one that Sherlock could take with him on walks, and isn't too big, not small either. I've always like Irish Setters, and they love to get out and go for walks and to the park-"

"Maybe not an Irish Setter." I said.

"Why not?"

I continued petting Bluebell, trying to think up a lie instead of revealing personal information. Sherlock might not want John to know about Redbeard.

"Might not be great for a flat. High energy." I explained, which wasn't a complete lie.

"Oh yeah I suppose."

"So a cat, then?" I asked. John laughed.

"I don't know. I see one cat becoming the gateway to a cat problem, Elizabeth. Get one now, then you'll want more, then when I'm gone, and your widowed, you'll be the crazy old cat lady."

"Please, I don't want to think about being a widow. That won't happen until a long time from now, knock on wood." I said. John chuckled, as Sherlock ran out of the lab, finding Dr. Stapleton.

"Major Berrymore's office, please."

She led us to his office, using her card to get us inside. Sherlock pointed to the door.

"John."

"Yeah, I'm on it." He runes to keep an eye on the door as Stapleton went to the computer sitting in front of it.

"Project H.O.U.N.D. Must have read about it and stored it away. An experiment in the CIA facility in Liberty, Indiana."

He went to stand behind Stapleton as she typed.

"H,O,U,N,D." He told her, and she typed it in.

"That's as far as my access goes I'm afraid." She told him, as a 'Access Denied' message covered the screen.

"Well, there must be an override and password." Sherlock said.

"I imagine so, but that'd be Berrymore's." Stapleton said.

Sherlock spun around, walking into his office, muttering about the password. He sat at the desk.

"He sat here when he thought it up." He said. "Describe him to me." He asked Stapleton, who walked to the door of his office, I trailed behind her.

"You've seen him."

"Yes, but _describe _him."

"Er, he's a bloody martinet, a throw-back, the sort of man they would have sent into Suez."

"Good,excellent, old-fashioned, traditionalist; not the sort that would use his children's names as a password." He he stirred to the drawings on the wall, obviously done by children. "He loves his job; proud of it and this is work related, so what's at eye level?" He looked around the room. "Books, Jane's Defence Weekly-bound copies,Hannibal, Wellington, Rommel, Churchill's "History of the English-Speaking Peoples."-all four volumes." He named off some of the books, standing up and looks at a bust sitting on the shelf with the books. "Well, he's fond of Churchill. Copy of "The Downing Street Years": one, two, three, four, and five deprecate biographies of Thatcher." He looked towards a photograph. "Mid 1980s at a guess. Father and son. Barrymore senior. Medals: Distinguished Service Order."

"That date, I'd say Falklands veteran." John said, coming up behind us.

"Right. So Thatcher's looking a more likely bet than Churchill."

He walked back to the computer.

"So that's the password?" I asked.

"No. With a man like Barrymore only first names terms would do."

He began to type 'Margeret' by stopped, instead typing 'Maggie', and hit enter. The computer beeped and happily announced that the override has been accepted, and it was loading.

Stapleton looked over his shoulder, reading. "HOUND." She said, and I moved to see the computer screen.

'

Leonard **H**anson

Jack **O**'Mara

Mary **U**slowsi

Rick **N**ader

Elaine **D**yson'

"Jesus." John said softly.

"Project HOUND. A new deliriant drug which rendered its users incredibly suggestible." Sherlock explained, dabbing the information on the screen. "They wanted to use it as a anti-personnel weapon to totally disorientated the enemy using fear and stimulus; but they shut it down and his it away in 1986."

"Because of what it did to the subjects they tested it on." Stapleton elaborated.

"And what they did to others. Prolonged exposure drive them insane- made them almost uncontrollably aggressive." Sherlock finished.

"So someone's been doing it again-carrying on the experiments?" I asked.

"Attempting to refine it, perhaps, for the last twenty years."

"Who?" Stapleton asked. John nodded to the screen.

"Those names mean anything to you?" He asked her.

"No, not a thing." She replied.

"Five principal scientists, twenty years ago." Sherlock sighed, pulling a photo up on the computer, zooming in on individuals. "Maybe our friend's somewhere in the back of the picture-someone who was old enough to be there at that time of the experiments in 1986…" He stopped on one face. "Maybe somebody who says 'cell phone' because of the time they've spent in America." He went on. "You remember, John?"

"Mmhm." He hummed. I was lost.

"He gave us his number in case we needed him."

"Who did?" I asked.

"Oh my God. Bob Franklin. But bob doesn't even work on...I mean, he's a virologist. This was _chemical_ warfare." Stapleton explained.

"It's where he started, though." Sherlock told her. "And he's never lost the certainty, the obsession that the drug really could work. Nice of him to give us the number." He pulled a card from his pocket. "Let's arrange a little meeting."

I was going to follow him out, when John's phone began to ring. We turned, waiting for him. I couldn't hear why he was saying exactly, but I could tell it was something serious.

"Henry?" Sherlock asked, after John announced it was his therapist, Louise.

"He's attacked her." He explained.

"Gone?"

"Mm." John hummed In response. Sherlock pulled his phone from his pocket, and dialed a number.

"There's only one place he would go to: where it all started." He said, as soon as Lestrade answered the phone. "Lestrade, get to the Hollow...Dewer's Hollow, now...and bring a gun."

* * *

We drove as close as we were able to to the Hollow, and I felt a mix of excitement and fear as we passed the tree line. I knew there wasn't anything really out there, but that didn't stop me from reaching a trembling hand towards Sherlock's steady one, grasping it tightly, and walking closer beside of him, watching the woods around me. We walked for a while, before Sherlock yanked his hand out of mine, running a bit ahead.

"No, Henry, no! No!" He yelled. I hurried behind him to find myself on the edge of a deep drop off, Henry at the bottom of it, a gun in his hand, which was raised to his head.

We all scrambled down the drop off to Henry, who was shouting at us, hysterically.

"Get back, Get-get away from me."

"Easy, Henry, easy, just relax." John attempted to calm him down, but it didn't help any at all.  
"I know what I am. I know what I tried to do!"

"Just put the gun down." John suggested. "It's okay."

"No, no," He shouted, his voice hoarse. "I know what I am!"

"Yes, I'm sure you do." Sherlock said, sounding reassuring. "It's all been explained to you, hasn't it-explained very carefully."

"What?" Henry asked.

"Someone needed to keep you quiet; needed to keep you as a child to reassert that dream that you'd both clung on to, because you started to remember." He took a step closer to him.

"Remember now, Henry. You've got to remember what happened here when you were a little boy." Henry began to drop the gun, slightly, but then raised it again.

"I thought it had got my dad, the hound. I thought…" He began to cry out in anguish.

"Oh Je...Oh Jesus, I don't-_I don't know anymore!"_ He went to the ground, putting the gun to his mouth. I moved closer to John, almost hiding behind me, but he stepped forward.

"No, Henry! Henry, no, for God's sake!"  
"Henry, remember 'Liberty in'. Two words; two words a frightened little boy saw here twenty years ago. You'd started to piece things together, remember what really happened here that night. It wasn't an animal, was it, Henry?" Sherlock asked. "No a monster." Henry began to straighten up. "A man." Sherlock finished, and Henry's eyes widened. "You couldn't cope, you were just a child, so you rationalised it into something very different. But then you started to remember, so you had to be stopped; driven out of your mind so that no one would believe a word you said." He stopped for a minute, no one said anything, so I stepped forward, reaching a hand out to Henry, who was still on the ground, the gun in his hand.

"Sherlock!" I heard Lestrade shout from behind us.

"It's okay." I repeated to him, reassuringly, as I slid the gun from his fingers as he spoke to Sherlock.

"But we saw it; the hound, last night, we s...we, we, we _did, _we saw…" He trailed off.

"Yeah, but there _was_ a dog, Henry, leaving footprints, scaring witnesses, but it was nothing more than an ordinary dog. We both saw it – saw it as our drugged minds wanted us to see it. Fear and stimulus; that's how it works." Sherlock explained. Henry only stared at him in confusion.

"But there was never any monster." As soon as he had finished, a howl erupted from somewhere else nearby, and my eyes widened, looking to Sherlock, who was staring back at me. My heart practically leaped out of my chest. John and Greg, both shined their flashlights towards the top of the Hollow, where a dark shape loomed, walking around the rim, snarling at us. I walked over to Sherlock, never taking my eyes off of the shape, and hid myself behind him.

"Is that the hound?" I asked. "The one you said you saw last night?"

"Yes." He whispered back. I placed my hand on his arm, shaking even more than before.

"No." Henry began to cry, in panic. "No, no, no, no!" He began to back away, and Sherlock reached a hand out towards him, keeping his light on the figure above us.

"Henry, Henry…"

"Sherlock." John said, behind us, as the figure began to make its way around the rim again. Henry went to his knees, continuously screaming 'No' over and over again.

The hound turned towards us, it's eyes bright due to the flashlights.

"Greg are you seeing this?" John asked. Greg didn't even have to answer. "Right, he's not drugged, Sherlock, so what is that? What is it?" John demanded.

"All right! It's still here …" he paused, panting, before going on, "... but it's just a dog. Henry! It's nothing more than an ordinary dog!" He said, as the hound howled again.

"Oh my God." Lestrade said, stumbling backwards, and my grip on Sherlock's arm tightened. "Oh, Christ!"

It's eyes were glowing red as it's mouth opened wide to reveal long pointed teeth that I had never seen on any animal. Henry had gone silent, again, and I closed my eyes, leaning my head on Sherlock's shoulder, but he turned around, and walked behind me, leaving me out in the open.

"The fog." He said, suddenly.

"What?" John asked, still staring at the hound."  
"It's the fog! The drug: it's in the fog! Aerosol dispersal – that's what it said in those records. Project HOUND – it's the fog! A chemical minefield!" He explained. Lestrade threw an arm under his nose, and I covered mine as well.

"For God's sake, kill it! Kill it!" Frankland said from behind me. I hadn't noticed he had arrived until he spoke up.

Greg lifted his gun, firing at the hound three times. It flinched for a second, but then leaped towards us. John attempted to shoot it, as well, his bullet hitting it, the hound falling to the ground, not moving, but we watching it, anxiously, making sure it was really dead.

Sherlock went to Henry, and began shoving him towards the hound.

"Look at it, Henry." He said, but Henry refused to move, repeating 'no' again.

"Come on, look at it." Sherlock demanded, pushing Henry forward, until they were close enough to look at the hound. I took a step closer myself, and saw through the fog, not a hound, but instead a large dog. Nothing compared to what we had seen seconds earlier.

Henry spun around to Frankland, who was holding his injured face.

"It's just...you bastard." He hurled himself at the man, taking him to the ground. "You bastard." he repeated, while John and Greg rushed to pull him off.

"Twenty years! Twenty years of my life making no sense. Why didn't you just kill me?" He asked.

" Because dead men get listened to. He needed to do more than kill you. He had to discredit every word you ever said about your father, and he had the means right at his feet – a chemical minefield; pressure pads in the ground dosing you up every time that you came back here." Sherlock interjected, as John and Greg pulled him off. Sherlock gestured to the Hollow, his arms outstretched, as he spun, slowly, in a circle.

"Murder weapon and scene of the crime all at once." He laughed. " Oh, this case, Henry! Thank you. It's been brilliant."

"Sherlock." John warned. He turned to look at him.

"Timing." I said, catching on to what John was implying.

"Not good?" Sherlock wondered.

", no, it's – it's okay. It's fine, because this means …" Henry turned to look at Frankland. " ... this means that my dad was _right."_

The older man got up to his knees, and Henry began to walk towards him, but the two other men put their hands on his shoulders, so that he couldn't go any farther.

"He found something out, didn't he, and that's why you'd killed him – because he was _right_, and he'd found you right in the middle of an experiment." Henry went on. Frankland rose to his feet, but didn't get to say anything, before a snarl was heard again, and we all looked to the dog, which was getting up off of the ground. John shot at it again, shooting it twice, before it fell again. When we turned around again, Frankland was gone, and Sherlock darted in front of John's line of fire to chase after him.

"Frankland!" he called, running up the slope, and we followed behind him as best as we could.

"Come on, keep up!" Lestrade called as soon as we reentered the tree line. I was slipping on dirt, my feet getting caught on twigs and roots, and I couldn't run as fast as the others. Greg waited behind for me, grabbing my wrist, pulling me along with them so that I could keep up easier.

" It's no use, Frankland!" I heard Sherlock say as we caught up, approaching a barbed wire fence, surrounding a field. Frankland jumped over, his foot getting caught, but he jumped back up and continued running.

Then Frankland stopped dead in his tracks, just as we were approaching the fence ourselves.

Everything was silent as Frankland lifted his head, and moved his foot just slightly, and we skidded to a halt, ducking our heads, as the mine he was standing on exploded.

* * *

Billy handed us our breakfast, as Sherlock approached the table with our coffees in hand.

"Thank you, Billy." John said, and I only smiled at him as he walked back inside.

"So they didn't have to put it down then, the dog." Sherlock said.

"Obviously. Suppose they just couldn't bring themselves to do it."

"I see."

"No you don't."

"No, I don't. Sentiment?"

" Sentiment!" John answered. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Oh." He sat down.

"Listen:" John began "what happened to me in the lab?"

Sherlock hesitated, reaching for a box of sauce sachets.

"DO you want sauce with that?" He asked, trying to change the subject.

"I mean, I hadn't been to the Hollow, so how come I heard those things in there? Fear and stimulus, you said."

"You must have been dosed with it elsewhere, when you went to the lab, maybe. You saw those pipes – pretty ancient, leaky as a sieve; and they were carrying the gas, so ... Um, ketchup, was it, or brown ...?" Sherlock trailed off.

"Hang on: you thought it was in the sugar." John reminded him. "You were _convinced_ it was in the sugar."

"Better get going, actually. The train leaves in about half an hour, so if you want …" He stopped again.

" Oh God. It was you. _You_ locked me in that bloody lab." John realized.

" I _had_ to. It was an experiment."

"An _experiment_?!" John asked, furiously.

"Shhh." Sherlock shushed him, looking around.

"I was terrified, Sherlock. I was scared to death."

"I thought that the drug was in the sugar, so I put the sugar in your coffee, then I arranged everything with Major was all _totally_ scientific, laboratory conditions – well, _literally."_

John looked at me. "And you knew."

I shook my head.

"Well, I knew what effect it had had on a superior mind, so I needed to try it on an average one." Sherlock explained. John glared at him. "You know what I mean."

"But it wasn't _in_ the sugar."

"No, well, I wasn't to know you'd already been exposed to the gas."

" So you got it wrong." John said.

"No."

"Mmm. You were wrong. It wasn't in the sugar. You got it _wrong_."

"A bit. Won't happen again."

John and I continued eating. John began to look around.

"Any long term effects?" He asked.

"None at all. You'll be fine once you've excreted it. We all will."

I scrunched my nose, and pushed my plate away.  
"Think I might have taken care of that already."

"Disgusting." I whispered, putting my face in my hands, while Sherlock snorted.

"Where are you going?" John asked, as Sherlock walked from our table, to Gary.

"Won't be a minute. Gotta see a man about a dog."

* * *

"You've been quiet." Sherlock said, beside me on the train. John had fallen asleep, leaned up against the window, and I had taken a spot beside the window as well, pulling out a book almost instantly. "You're usually quiet in the morning, but this it different. What's wrong?"

"Nothing." I shrugged, turning back to my book, but I could feel Sherlock's eyes on me still. I tried to ignore him, but I couldn't. I closed my book, and looked up at him.

"What?" I asked.

"Was it last night, at the Hollow? I noticed you were quiet then, too."

"I'm always quiet."

"Yes, but not like this."

We were quiet for a while. I decided not to go back to my book, but instead, I stared out of the window.

"Frankland did that to himself, Elizabeth. He decided to run."

"I know." I whispered. "But I can't help but feel like there was _something_ that we could have done to prevent it." I explained. "Another death that I could have prevented."  
"Who's the other?" Sherlock asked.

"Soo Lin. Remember? Because I was cowering in the corner, I let her leave the closet, and she got shot."

"She was stupid enough to leave." Sherlock reminded. "You can't fix stupid." He joked.

"Soo Lin wasn't stupid. She was sweet. And she helped you." I told him.

"Alright, well, what could you have done for Frankland, hmm?" he asked.

"I don't know. _Something._"

"No specifics?" he asked. I shook my head.

"I don't know. I'm sure I'll find some way it could have been stopped."

I felt his hand on the side of my face, pushing it slightly, so that I was looking him dead in the eye.

"Elizabeth, you're smart. If you can't figure it out off of the top of your head, then it's probably because there was no possible way it could have been stopped, so please, don't dwell on it so much. Frankland decided to run himself, he jumped the fence and stepped on that mine by himself. It's _his_ fault, not yours, not anyone else's. Okay?" He said, softly. I allowed the corners of my lips to turn up slightly, in a smile, as he leaned forward slightly, eyes cutting over to look at John, before his lips brushed against mine. I heard John groan.

"Really?" He asked, turning his head, eyebrows furrowed. "Because that's what I wanted to wake up to." He moaned.

I laughed, and I laid my head on his shoulder, his arm snaking around my shoulders, as I snuggled closer.

"Okay." I whispered, and I slept the rest of the ride home.

**D'aww.**

***Sighs* Reichenbach fall is coming up, and you guys are going to hate me….**

**I honestly, I know I said I have, but I don't really have everything together for Reichenbach fall just yet. I know certain, important parts, but there are little things I think of as I'm going along, that I love, and things I'm taking out because I hate them, and I'm really just polishing the older ideas, and squeezing in the newer ones.**

**Another question for you all, this one a little less revealing. **

**A or B.**

**I know what they mean, but I want to take a quick poll, just because I'm undecided about something, and want your opinions. :)**

**Anyway, REVIEWS!  
****From: xxyangxx2006 **

**Oh I was so behind on this! Apparently I had been subconsciously stockpiling these chapters because when I got a notification for this the other day I was like oh cool! And then when I looked in my bookmarks I realized I hadn't read this since chapter 16! I am kind of glad I did though because I got a lot to read! XD But on another note I do have to say all the things that you put Elizabeth through. That and she and Sherlock just mesh so well together that I can't help but love them together. That and even though they have their arguments they are still able to get back to be on good terms. Hell they even got married and she is able to deal with him still. Even when he freaked out at her he knew he did wrong and apologized and she forgave him. The story about Lily and the Lion and all those gifts are still worrying me though. Can't wait to see what happens next and I am glad I am back to reading this. Keep up the great work!**

Hi! So great to hear from you!

All reviews make my day, but yours really, truly, made me smile for the rest of the day, and a little into the next. I get so paranoid about Elizabeth, and trying to put her in, and then putting her in a romantic relationship with Sherlock, and it really is a chore, but I am so happy that you like it, and that they go well together. I myself adore them together, but, then again, I am writing it, so that doesn't count much, but it makes my so happy to hear that you do!

I'm working with the Lilly and the Lion, we're not quite finished yet, my dear :)

Thank you so much!

~Eruaphadriel


	35. Chapter 35

**Song for this chapter: Science and Faith- The Script**

**I decided to do songs for Elizalock, because I thought it would be nice, and because there are a lot of really good ones that I could use leading up to...you know :)**

**(A lot of the songs are take from Sherlolly fanmixes that I found on Tumblr, but some are my own that I found, and found fit perfectly.)**

**IMPORTANT: (Kind of..)SO, there is something I want to address, and it's not something that's bothering me a lot, but it's something that I've noticed: I'm not getting as many reviews as I used to. I do good if I get two or three reviews, whereas I used to get a lot more, and that's fine, because the amount of followers and favorites on this story is...overwhelming! And that doesn't begin to explain, but I want to say that, please, if you guys have any feedback, don't hesitate to review, or PM me. if you don't want ot threview to be feature at the end of the chapter, that's fine, let me know with a little * at the beginning of the review, or with a little note at the end, and I won't feature your review, because I know some people may not be comfortable with that, and that's OKAY! I know how that is, and I don't want to do anything to make anyone uncomfortable. And if you don't want to make your review public, even, send me a PM! If you have instagram, instead of a fanfiction account, send me a DM (eruaphadriel_) or a kik (cece1913 (let's be friends!)) I'm cool with WHATEVER, even send some suggestions if you want, I just want to know what you guys think, if you even want to share. I'm just giving more options :)**

**I also want to get to know some of you guys (I hope that doesn't sound creepy)**

**Okay, putting that aside**

Victoria laid in the lawn chair, a magazine in her hand, listening to the waves from the lake she decided to camp beside. Her and her late husband, Harold, camped there when they first got married, and every year they had taken their children there as well, up until Harold passed. Then they went less, and less, until they rarely ever went, if they went at all.

Mrs. Watson could still see her children splashing around in the water, while her youngest stayed on the beach, playing in the dirt and sand, close by her mother, who she was attached to in her earlier years, especially after her father passed. Poor girl was only seven when it happened.

Victoria began to worry about her youngest, then. She wasn't much for watching television, and she hadn't kept up with the news since she had gotten to the lake, but she knew things weren't too good for her son-in-law at the moment. She hoped everything would pass, this Moriarty character would say it was a lie, that he was lying, and that her son-in-law's name would be cleared of all suspicion. She hoped that when she got home, and turned on the news, nothing slandering his name would be in sight. She knew it was hurting her daughter, and she hated it. She hated every newspaper, every news channel that spoke poorly about him, and though she had only met him a few times, and didn't know him well, she thought of him as one of her own, loved him as if he were her own son, and, by law, he was.

She knew celebrity gossip blew over in a few days, and thought this would be no different.

'But this isn't just regular gossip, is it?' something in her nagged.

Still, she hoped.

She had take time to call her daughter, and ask how she was. Poor thing was worried sick, and who could blame her? Victoria offered to come over, and maybe stay a while, but her daughter said no, to go on with her vacation, and that she would call if anything changed.

Victoria kept her cell phone on all weekend, not even bothering to put it on silent.

So when the phone rang, and the ringtone blared, she rushed towards it.

"Hello?" She answered, but there was no reply. She took the phone from her face, looking at the caller ID.

**Elizabeth Holmes (daughter)**

She put the phone back up to her ear, listening closely.

"Elizabeth?" She asked through the phone. Still nothing.

'_Silly girl. Just a butt dial.'_ she guessed, with a silent laugh, until she heard a soft whimpering, undoubtedly Elizabeth.

"Are you there?" She asked, worried.

"M-mom." She cried, her voice wavering, and Victoria brought a hand to her chest, able to hear the obvious pain in her daughter's voice.

"What's wrong, what happened?" She whispered.

She expected several things:

A divorce,

Someone was sick,

Some natural disaster she knew nothing about,

The media had gotten worse, (Which she had her money on)

But what she heard, was the last thing she expected.

She didn't even hear most of it, Elizabeth's sobs making her words run together into muddled sentences, but she was able to pick out a few words, ones that Elizabeth repeated over and over again.

Sherlock,

St. Barts,

and dead.

* * *

_Three months earlier_

We stood in the art gallery, John and I standing, a bit awkwardly, beside Sherlock, who was being complimented by the Director.

"_Falls of the Reichenbach_, Turner's masterpiece, thankfully recovered owing to the prodigious talent of Mr. Sherlock Holmes."

Patrons in audience began to applaud as the Director handed a small wrapped gift to Sherlock.

"A small token of our gratitude." he said. Sherlock took the box, looking at it for a second.

"Diamond cufflinks. All my cuffs have buttons."

"He means thank you." I leaned forward to look at the director.

"I do?"

"Yes, you do." I glared.

"Thank you." Sherlock said to the Director, insincerely, attempting to walk away, but John and I grabbed him, pulling him back as reporters took pictures.

The next morning, we went out to check the papers, John and I, while Sherlock slept in.

"_Hero of the Reichenbach._" I read outloud over breakfast. John smiled.

"Listen to this one, and we don't tell him about it: '_A Turner Masterpiece recovered by 'Amature'_."

I laughed.  
"Is that really what it says?" I asked, leaning over the table, and turning the paper to get a better look. Sure enough, John wasn't lying. I laughed.

"He would have a fit...let's tell him."

John thought. "Okay." He shrugged a shoulder, and I went on to the next one.

"_Scotland Yard Embarrassed by Overlooked Clues.'_"

"There's one he'll love." John said, putting the papers aside as the bedroom door creaked open, and Sherlock emerged.

"Good morning." I smiled, shoving my papers to the side as well.

"Are those todays?" Sherlock asked, grabbing the plate we made for him from the counter, and walking over to join us at the table.

"This one is, yeah." I said, grabbing the one John had read from. He began to laugh, and I couldn't contain my smile.

"What?" Sherlock asked. I shook my head.

"Nothing, just something J and I were talking about before you woke up." I covered. Sherlock, still groggy, paid it no mind, and continued reading, while John and I took a drink to hide our laughter.

I didn't take a drink, though, just holding it to my mouth, as if I were, John, though…

"What?" Sherlock asked. I put my cup down. "Amature?" he made a face

"Where does it say that?" I asked, as if I had never seen it before. I heard John chuckle more.

Sherlock picked up another paper, and read outloud:

"_...stolen from an auction house ten days ago, has been recovered by an _amature detective _from North London."_

John laughed out loud.

"John!" I laughed. his face was red. "What's wrong?"

"Sorry, sorry!" he apologized, laughing. "His face," was all he got out.

"Yeah, Sherlock doesn't look to amused. You on the other hand,"

"John it's not that funny." Sherlock said. "Not funny at all, really."

"No, I know, I know. How many papers is that in?" he asked. "I thought it was just that one."

"Hopefully not all of them."

"That would be funny if it were all of them." John nodded.

Sherlock glared at him.

"Is that what was so funny?" I asked him. "That it was in more than one paper."  
"Yeah."

I shook my head, laughing, as Sherlock put the papers down, shaking his head, and went to go take a shower.

"What was so funny." I asked John.

"I honestly don't know why I'm laughing so hard." He picked up the paper, putting it with the other.  
"No, stop, John! We have to find, anywhere it calls Sherlock an amature."

"We're not going to let this go, are we."  
"Nope." I smiled, opening another paper.

"You're an awful wife." John shook his head.

"You're the one laughing about it."

"Shut up."

* * *

We stood, yet again, surrounded by press, and reporters, as the banker stood beside his family, arms wrapped around them.

"Back together with my family after my terrifying ordeal; and we have one person to thank for my deliverance- Sherlock Holmes."

They clapped as the banker's son handed Sherlock a gift, which Sherlock shook, briefly, before turning to us.

"Tie pin. I don't wear ties."

"Shh." John shushed, as the press took more photos.

* * *

"What's in that one?" Sherlock asked.

"Nothing about you being an amature, this time. But it does say that you seem to be the nation's sweetheart."

"What?"

"Yup. Says here, '_Bankers are certainly not the nation's sweethearts any more, but Mr. Holmes certainly seems to be.'_" I read outloud. He moved to stand behind me, looking over my shoulder. I chuckled, turning to look at him, his face full of disgust.

"It's not too bad. It's cute." I cooed, kissing his cheek. He only groaned.

"No it's not." he said, moving back to the couch.

"Yes it is." I said softly.

* * *

"Peter Ricoletti: number one on Interpol's MOst Wanted list since 1982. but we got him; and there's one person we have to thank for giving up the decisive leads...with all his customary diplomacy and tact."

Sherlock smiled towards Lestrade, who was talking to the press.

"Sarcasm." John whispered to Sherlock.

"Yes." he agreed, as the press applauded, Greg handing Sherlock a gift.

"We all chipped in." he said with a smile. Sherlock tore open the wrapping, and pulled out a deerstalker hat.

"Oh!" he said, trying to smile.

"Put the hat on!" One reporter yelled, and other followed suit.

"Yeah put it on." I nudged his shoulder, smiling. He glared at me, and went as if her were going ot put the hat on me instead, only hitting the top of my head, lightly, with the hat, before putting it on his own. The press went crazy, taking pictures, and cheering.

* * *

John sat on the couch, while I sat in Sherlock's chair, both of us reading a paper. Sherlock threw his on the coffee table.

"'Boffin'.' 'Boffin Sherlock Holmes'." He quoted.

"Everybody gets one." John spoke up.

"One what?"  
"Tabloid nickname. 'SuBo'; 'Nasty Nick'. Shouldn't worry about it. We'll get one, too, Elizabeth and I."

"Page five, column six, first sentence."

I watched as John flipped pages of his paper until he found the one Sherlock was talking about, as Sherlock picked up the deerstalker, punching it.

"Why is it always the hat photograph." He asked.

"I think you look great in it." I shrugged.

"Of course you do." He smirked.

"'_Bachelor _John Watson'?" John read out loud. I laughed a little.

"What sort of hat is it anyway?" Sherlock asked, still talking about the hat.

"'Bachelor'? What the hell are they implying?"

Sherlock began twisting the hat back and forth over and over again, growing more and more aggravated.

"Is it a cap? Why has it got two fronts?"

"It's a deerstalker." I told him.

"'Frequently seen in the company of bachelor John Watson, and his sister, Sherlock Holmes' wife, Elizabeth."

"I don't get a nickname?" I asked.

"That one there." Sherlock nodded towards the one he put on the table. "They call you the 'Queen of Bakerstreet'."

I smiled, and leaned back.

"See, John. Childhood dreams are comin' true."

He laughed.

"You stalk a deer with this hat?" Sherlock asked, looking back down at it. "What are you gonna do-throw it?" I laughed at him.

"...'_confirmed'_ bachelor John Watson'!"

"Some sort of death frisbee?"

"Okay, this is too much. We need to be more careful."

"It's got flaps...ear flaps, it's an _ear _hat, Elizabeth." he tossed it to me, and I caught it. "What do you mean 'more careful'?"

"I think he means, this isn't a deerstalker now; it's a Sherlock Holmes hat. You're not exactly a private detective anymore, love. You're getting close to famous."

"Oh, it'll pass." Sherlock sighed, sitting across from me.

"Hopefully." Sherlock raised a brow. "The press will turn, Sherlock. They always turn, and, as much as I hate it, you won't be an exception in this situation." Sherlock turned to John, who nodded in agreement.

"It really bothers you." He asked, brows furrowed. "What people say."

"Yeah, of course it does."

"About me? I don't understand-why would it upset _you_?" he asked. I sighed.

"Just try to keep a low profile. FInd yourself a little case this week." John suggested. "Stay out of the news."

Sherlock turned to me, and I shrugged a shoulder, sending him an apologetic smile.

Keeping Sherlock out of the news, now, was going to be difficult.

* * *

Sherlock's phone rang once from the arm of the chair.

"It's your phone." John said, coming from the bathroom after a shower, a towel over his shoulder, wearing a robe.

"Hmm." Sherlock hummed. "It keeps doing that."

"So," John began, sitting down. "Did you just talk to him for a really long time?" He asked, referring to the dummy with the noose around his neck swinging from the ceiling the Sherlock had hung up while John was in the shower.

"Oh. Henry Fitzgerald never committed suicide." he slammed a book on the table, dust flying into the air.

"bow Street Runners: missed everything." He said, going back to his microscope.

"Pressing case?" I asked.

"They're all pressing until they're solved."

Sherlock's phone rang again, and I picked it up. "I'll get it, shall I?" I sighed, checking the message, then immediately taking it to the kitchen.

"Sherlock…"

"Not now." he replied.

"He's back." I shoved the phone towards him. Sherlock took his eyes from the microscope, looking at me for a moment, before taking the phone from my hands.

**FROM: Unknown**

**Come and play.**

**Tower Hill.**

**Jim Moriarty X.**

His eyes widen, and he began to stare into space.

* * *

Jim Moriarty took the gum from his mouth, placing it on the glass, before pushing something into it, though we couldn't see what it was.

"That glass is tougher than anything." Lestrade said.

"Not tougher than crystallised carbon. he used a diamond." Sherlock replied.

Lestrade adjusted the footage from another camera in the room, rewinding it, the glass rising from the ground, back to it's original place, and the letters on the glass became clear.

**GET SHERLOCK**

With a nice little smiley face in t 'O'.

Sherlock didn't say anything, only stared at the screen.

* * *

John adjusted his tie in the mirror, turning to me.

"Look okay?" He asked. I smiled and nodded, adjusting the hem of my dress. It was nothing fancy, really. just something that sat in the back of the closet for ages that I never wore, and after this trial, will never wear again. It was nice, though, a simple black tea length dress, blue at the hems. Shame that i never wore it more...

"Look's great." He grinned back. I grabbed my bag, and a light jacket, not knowing what it would be like in the courtroom. Most likely freezing…

Sherlock lead the way downstairs, and then outside, pushing past the press. Police were attempting to contain them, clearing the way towards the police car.

"Remember…" John began as we drove.

"Yes." Sherlock interrupted.

"Remember…" He tried again.

"Yes." Sherlock cut in again, even more quickly.

"Remember what they told you; don't try to be clever." I said, quickly.

"No." he said, talking over me.

"...and please, keep it simple and brief."

"Gor forbid the star witness at the trial should come across as intelligent."

"Intelligent', fine; let's give 'smart-arse' a wide berth." John muttered.

"I'll just be myself."

"Are you listening to us?" John asked. I laughed.

* * *

"A 'consulting criminal'?" the prosecuting barrister asked.

"Yes." Sherlock answered, standing in the witness box while John and I sat in the public gallery upstairs.

"Your words. Can you expand on that answer?" She asked.

"James moriarty is for hire."

"A tradesman?"

"Yes."

"But not the sort who'd fix your heating." She guessed.  
"No, the sort who'd plant a bomb or stage an assassination, but I'm sure he'd make a pretty decent job of your boiler." Sherlock joked, muffled laughter from the audience, and the prosecuting barrister tried to hide her smile.

"Would you describe him as…" Sherlock cut her off.

"Leading." he said.

"What?"

"Can't do that. You're leading the witness." he looked towards the defending barrister. "He'll object and the judge will uphold."

"Mr. Holmes." The judge said, exasperated. this wasn't the first time Sherlock had done this...and I was sure it wasn't going to be the last time, either…

"Ask me how. how would I describe him? What opinion have I formed of him? Do they not teach you this?" he asked.

"Mr. Holmes, we're fine without your help."

"How would you describe this man-his character?" the prosecuting barrister asked.

"First mistake-" he glanced towards Jim. "James moriarty isn't a man at all-he's a spider at the centre of a web with a thousand threads and he knows precisely how each and every one of them dances."

"And how long…" the prosecuting barrister began to ask, but Sherlock cut her off again.

"No, no, don't-don't do that. That's really not a good question."

"Mr. Holmes." The judge said, angrily.

"How long have I known him? now really your best line of enquiry. We met twice, five minutes in total. I pulled a gun; he tried to blow me up. I felt we had a special something." he said, sarcastically.

"Miss. Sorrel, are you seriously claiming that this man is an expert, after knowing the accused for just five minutes?" The judge asked.

"Two minutes would have made me an expert. Five was ample." Sherlock told him.

"Mr. Holmes, that's a matter for the jury."

"Oh, really?"

"Oh, no." I whispered, trying to catch Sherlock's eye. He caught my stare for a moment, and I shook my head, but he ignored me.

"one librarian; two teachers; two high-pressure jobs, probably the City. The foreman's a medical secretary, trained abroad judging by her shorthand."

"Mr. Holmes!" The judge yelled.

"Seven are married, two are having an affair-with each other, it would seem! Oh, and they've just had tea and biscuits. Would you like to know who ate the wafer?" he asked, turning to the judge, who was growing more and more irritated.

"Mr. Holmes, you've been called here to answer Miss. Sorrel's questions, not give us a display of your intellectual prowess." The judge said. Sherlock looked up at us, smiling a little, no doubt because the judge had acknowledged his 'intellectual prowess'...as if he needed an ego boost.

"Keep your answers brief and to the point. Anything else wit be treated as contempt."

Sherlock stared at Moriarty, while the judge went on. "Do you think you could survive for just a few minutes, _without showing off?!"_ He yelled. I jumped, and Sherlock took a deep breath.

* * *

"What did we say? We said don't get clever." John said, his voice echoing, while Sherlock retrieved his possessions from an officer, after being let out of the holding ell.

"Can't just turn it on and off like a tap." Sherlock said, "well?"

"Well what?" I asked.

"You were there for the whole thing. Up at the gallery, start to finish."

"Like you said it would be." I answered. "Sat on his backside, never even stirred."

"Moriarty's not mounting any defences." Sherlock said.

* * *

We walked through the front door, John still talking.

"Bank of England, Tower of London, Pentonville. Three of the most secure places in the country, and six weeks ago, Moriarty breaks in, no one knows how, or why." He sat in his chair, and I threw my purse and coat down beside the couch, laying down, as Sherlock paced around the living room. "All we know is-"

"That he ended up in custody." Sherlock finished, looking at John.

"Don't do that." John sighed.

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"The look."

"What look?"

"You're doing the look again." i cut in.

"Well, I can't see it, can I?" I nodded towards the mirror. Sherlock turned to look into it, before turning back around. "It's my face."

"Yes, and it's doing the thing. You're doing a we-all-know-what's-really-going-on-here face."

"Well, we do."

"No, we don't. That's what makes the face kind of annoying. So please, enlighten us."

"If Moriarty wanted to jewels, he's have them, if he wanted all of those prisoners free, they'd be out on the streets. the only reason he's still in a prison cell right now, is because he chose to be there."

"Kind of like Loki, in 'The Avengers'? When they brought him onto the helicarrier… a little." I said, knowing John would get the reference, since we had gone to see all of the Marvel movies in theatres...twice.

John pointed, saying, "I understood that reference." while Sherlock stared, blankly, missing, yet again, another movie reference.

"I don't think you'd like those movies as much, but you'll watch them." I promised.

"Anyway, somehow this is part of his scheme."

* * *

The next day, I stayed home with Sherlock, who wasn't allowed back in the courtroom, while John went by himself.

"So, would you like to go and do something today, or would you rather stay in." I asked, sitting in front of him on the couch. He was sitting up, leaving just enough room for me to sit down, while he stretched his legs across the couch.

"What would you rather do?"

"Doesn't matter to me either way." i shrugged a shoulder.

"Stay in." he answered quickly.

"Okay." I picked a book up from the coffee table, opening it, and began reading.

We sat there for an hour in comfortable silence, Sherlock's feet getting closer, and closer, until they were finally resting in my lap. I looked over to glare at him, and he smiled.

"Really?" I asked. He looked back down at his phone, as mine buzzed on the arm of the couch, the screen displaying a text.

**FROM: Sarah**

**Hey, got a day off. Doing anything?**

Do we have any plans today?" I asked Sherlock. he shook his head.

"No, don't think so. Why?"

"Sarah was wondering. She's got a day off."

"Oh."

**TO: Sarah**

**Not that I'm aware.**

**FROM: Sarah**

**Would you like to grab some lunch? I know it's kind of short notice, but I'm in the area.**

I told her I was on my way, asking where she wanted to meet, pushing Sherlock's feet off, before grabbing my bag and jacket from the bedroom.

"I'm meeting Sarah for lunch. Call me if you hear anything from John about the trial." I said, kissing Sherlock on the cheek as I left.

* * *

**Leaving it there, but 10 pages! Whoop whoop!**

**Reviews!**

**From: Guest**

:She dies with Sherlock, loses him with John or hides with Adler.

I think she dies or goes into hiding. Unless she is pregnant then she stays with Mrs. Hudson. In that dusty old house.

But I don't think Sherlock can leave her.

BREANMA

**Hello! Lovely to hear from you!  
Those are some really great ideas! I didn't think about bringing Adler back into the story until you mentioned Elizabeth going into hiding, and honestly, it has given me a great idea! Thank you!**

**From: xxyangxx2006**

Oh man... their interaction in the lab was just adorable! It was 'sugary' and sweet XD And I know she feels guilty, but I am siding with Sherlock on this one. The only thing that would've been different if he didn't step on the mine would be the Moriarty would somehow kill him before he had the chance to blab about him. If that happened then she would be wondering what she could've done to keep him alive in that situation and that is too much thought for a person like him. Keep up the great work!

**Hi! Glad you liked the lab bit!**

**I think Elizabeth, no matter what, would feel guilty, and I agree with you and Sherlock as well, but I just thought, with her personality, she would feel like there was something she could have done to prevent it.  
Thank you so much!**

**~Eruaphadriel**


	36. Chapter 36

**Aloha!**

**I am going to TRY to get Reichenbach fall FINISHED in this chapter, because I am super duper excited to go onto season 3! I already have a little bit that I wrote for it, and I can't wait!**

**So that's why this chapter is so long.**

**You're welcome :)**

**Sorry about any feels…(Honestly, I cried writing it.)**

I walked inside, expecting silence, but instead, I heard Sherlock talking, and then a voice answering him. I was just about to take the first step, when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I checked in before going up, in case it was Sherlock asking me to pick something up from the

store. Seemed pointless to walk all the way up the stairs, and then go back down again.

**From: Sherlock**

**When you get home, go straight to Mrs. Hudson's, please. I'll come fetch you and explain everything when he leaves.**

'_He?'_ I thought. I read the message over and over again, backing away from the stairs, cautiously making my way to Mrs. Hudson's, when I heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

I pushed my back up against the wall by the stairs, hoping they wouldn't see me if it was the man Sherlock was talking about.

Luckily, he didn't see me, and walked outside. I waited a few seconds, before moving towards the stairs again, just as Sherlock was coming down.

"Did you get my text?" He asked, worriedly. I nodded.

"Yeah. I just came in. Who was that?" I asked, climbing the stairs, towards him.

"Moriarty."

"Jim Moriarty?" I asked. "But he...was he not guilty?"

"Oh, he's guilty, of all charges, including worming his way into the jury's hotel rooms, and bribing them."

I closed my eyes and sighed. This was not good...not good at all.

Why couldn't everything just be easy for once…

"How was lunch?" He asked, changing the subject.

"Great." I answered, short and sweet, walking up the stairs, Sherlock close behind.

* * *

I jumped from the cab, grocery bags in hand, and hurried to the flat, trying not to drop anything.

When I walked up the stairs, I heard several voices, a few I could make out, like Sherlock's and John's, and just barely Lestrade's.

"What's going on?" I asked, as I noticed the three of them were inside, as well as Sally, who glared at me. I put the bags on the kitchen table, leaving them for now, walking back into the living room.

"A kidnapping." Sherlock answered, typing on his laptop.

"Rufus Bruhl, the ambassador to the U.S" Lestrade said.

"Isn't he in Washington."  
"Not him. His children." Lestrade clarified. I nodded. "Max and Claudette, age seven and nine."

Sally handed me a couple of photos of the kids.  
"Aww. They're cute." I said, making this kidnapping break my heart.

"They're at St Aldate's."

"Posh boarding school down in Surrey." Sally explained.

"The school broke up; all of the boarders went home- just a few kids remained, including these two." Greg continued.

"The kids have vanished."

"The ambassadors asked for you personally." Lestrade said to Sherlock, who rose to his feet, grabbing his coat and scarf, walking out.

"The Reichenbach Hero." Sally said, sarcastically.

"Isn't it great to be working with a celebrity!" Lestrade said with a smile as they followed Sherlock out. Lestrade stopped, looking at me.

"You coming?" He asked. I couldn't…  
"Um, no, I think I'll sit out on this one. I've got to put groceries away, and I haven't felt too great." I replied. I felt fine...for the most part.

"Oh. Okay, well, if you change your mind a little later today, let me know." He smiled, and I grinned back. "Get to feeling better!" he called from the stairs. I thanked him, and moved towards the kitchen, putting the cold things away first.

As much as I wanted to go with them, I couldn't. I didn't want to get involved, especially if anything happened to them. I had always had a soft spot for children, more so than others, I never knew why. Knowing that they were kidnapped broke my heart, and, I feared, if I got too involved, and something happened…

It seemed better to remain unattached; easier.

After I finished putting everything away, I turned on the telly, and looked for shows and movies that were on, trying to decide on what to watch.

An hour later, my phone rang, and I reached to grab it from the dining table.

**FROM: Sherlock**

**Heading to the lab. Want to go?**

I thought about it for a minute. It wouldn't hurt, would it?

**FROM: Sherlock**

**Molly will be there. She'll be on her lunch.**

Haven't seen Molly in a while...sure.

**TO: Sherlock**

**Be there in a few.**

**FROM: Sherlock**

**We've got a cab. We'll pick you up.**

Even better!

* * *

We walked through the doors, meeting Molly in the corridor.

"Molly!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"Oh, hello. I'm just going out." She explained.

"No, you're not." Sherlock turned her around. I tried to get him to let her leave, but he wouldn't listen.

"I've got a lunch date." She argued.

"Cancel it. You're having lunch with me." He said, pulling some crisps from his pocket, waving the bags.

"What?" She asked.

"Sherlock, you can't make her cancel it. She's a grown woman, she does what she wants." I defended her.

"Thank you." She smiled."Good to see you. Are you feeling alright?" She asked. I nodded.

"Yeah, fine."

I could feel John and Sherlock's eyes on me, but I ignored them. No doubt Lestrade told them the opposite of what I told Molly.

"Need your help." he went on. "It's one of your old boyfriends-we're trying to track him down. He's been a bit naughty."

He reached the door, then turned around and smiled at her, noticing that she hadn't walked closer, and was still standing beside me in the middle of the hallway.

"Is it Moriarty?" She asked.

"Of course it's Moriarty." Sherlock answered.

"Er- Jim wasn't even my boyfriend. We went out three times. I ended it." She informed us.

"Yes, and then he stole the Crown Jewels, broke into the Bank of England, and organized a prison break at Pentonville. For the sake of law and order, I suggest you avoid all future attempts at a relationship, Molly." he held up the bag of crisps again, and walked through the doors, John followed.

"Just go. I won't be as helpful as you, but I can try, and you have a date…" She shook her head.

"No, I can help. It wasn't that important anyway."

"Molly…"  
"I'm serious. I'll just give him a call, tell him I got caught up at work, and I can't make it."

"At least try to reschedule." I told her. She nodded, pulling out her phone, punching in letters, and sending the text.

"There." She said, putting her phone in her pocket, a smile plastered on her face. "Now I'm free."

I sighed and shook my head at her, as she walked through the doors, holding one open for me.

"You coming?"

* * *

Sherlock looked up as the door swung shut, looking around.

"Where'd Elizabeth go?" He asked John.

"You notice when Elizabeth is gone, she didn't even make a sound, yet I've been talking to you for the past five minutes...she went with Molly to fetch some books." He explained, sighing.

"Mmm." Sherlock hummed. "Of course I realise when Elizabeth is gone. Everything becomes hectic."

John looked around the lab. "It's pretty calm to me." he said, confused. Sherlock realised John didn't know what he was talking about, of course, and he sighed.

"Not out here. Up here." he pointed to his temple. "In my mind palace. Elizabeth being here helps me think."

"Oh." John said, then smiled. "Aww, because you love her." he mocked. Sherlock remained silent. He didn't like to discuss emotions, and just because he was married, that wasn't going to change.

He went back to the petri dish beside of him as Molly and Elizabeth walked in, books piled in their arms.

"Oil, John." Sherlock said, suddenly.

"What?" He asked.

"The oil in the kidnapper's footprint- it'll lead us to Moriarty." he went on. "All the chemical traces on his shoe have been preserved. The sole of the shoe is like a passport. If we're lucky we can see everything that he's been up to." He slid a slide underneath the microscope and studied it.

* * *

Calk,

Asphalt,

Brick Dust,

Vegetation.

That's all he had so far, and he slid the fifth slide under the microscope.

"What _are_ you?" he murmured to himself.

"What did you mean 'I owe you'." Molly asked. "You said 'I owe you'. You were muttering it while you were working." She explained.

Was he? He hadn't noticed.

"Nothing. Mental note." He said. He could feel Molly's eyes on him, even after he had turned away from her, and stared into his microscope again, ignoring her.

"You're a bit like my dad. He's dead." She said. "No. Sorry." She apologized, obviously embarrassed.

"Molly, _please_ don't feel the need to make conversation. It's really not your area."

Instead, she continued.

"When he was ... dying, he was always cheerful; he was lovely – except when he thought no-one could see. I saw him once. He looked sad."

"Molly…" Sherlock said, sternly, but she ignored him.

" _You_ look sad …" She looked towards Elizabeth, who was sitting next to John, having a quiet conversation, and typing away on her phone, while John giggled. " ... when you think he can't see you. Elizabeth's noticed it, too." She admitted.

Sherlock turned his attention away from the slide, to Elizabeth and John, seeing what Molly had, and then back to Molly, who was looking up at him.

"Are you okay?" She asked.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she stopped him.

"And don't just say you are, because I know what that means, looking sad when you think no-one can see you."

"But _you_ can see me." She argued.

"I don't count. What I'm trying to say is that, if there's anything I can do, anything you need, anything at all, you can have _me." _She flinched, looking away. "No, I just mean ... I mean if there's anything you need …" She attempted to correct herself. "It's fine." She finished, shaking her head.

"What-what-what could I need from you?" Sherlock asked.

"Nothing." She turned back towards him, shrugging. "I don't know. You could probably say thank you, actually." She nodded.

Sherlock thought for a moment. "Thank you." He finally said, hesitantly.

" I'm just gonna go and get some crisps. Do you want anything?" She asked, walking towards the door. He opened his mouth to answer, but she stopped him again. "No, it's okay, I know you don't." She said.

"Well, actually, maybe I'll…"

"No, I know you don't." She turned to Elizabeth and John. "Do you guys want anything?" She asked. John shook his head, but Elizabeth reached into her pocket, pulling out some money, and handing it to Molly.

"Yes please."

Molly took the money, and left to get the crisps.

"Sherlock." John said, walking across the lab to join him. He was carrying photographs, no doubt from the police, of the boy's and girl's rooms. "This envelope that was in her trunk. There's another one." He looked at the photograph of the trunk in the girl's room, a book of fairytales inside.

John took the envelope he had found when he got home, from his pocket, still full of breadcrumbs.

"Oh, Johnny, those are probably all in your pocket now." Elizabeth said, walking over, and picking a breadcrumb off of the counter.

"I'll wash it." John told her, but she still didn't look to happy. Sherlock tried not to chuckle at his wife. " On our doorstep. Found it today. Yes, and look at that." he said, pointing out the seal, walking around the bench to Sherlock. "Look at that. Exactly the same seal."

Sherlock reached into the envelope.

"Breadcrumbs." he said.

" Uh-huh. It was there when I got back."

"A little trace of breadcrumbs; hardback copy of fairy tales." Sherlock mumbled. "Two children led into the forest by a wicked father follow a little trail of breadcrumbs."

" That's "Hansel and Gretel." What sort of kidnapper leaves clues?" Elizabeth asked.

"The sort that likes to boast; the sort that thinks it's all a game. He sat in our flat and he said these exact words to me ... All fairytales need a good old-fashioned villain."

" The fifth substance: it's part of the tale. The fifth substance: it's part of the tale."

"What?" John asked.

" The glycerol molecule. PGPR!"

"What's that?"

"It's used in making chocolate." He jumped off of the stool, and walked out of the lab, John running to catch up, both of them almost knocking poor Molly to the ground.

* * *

"Where are they going?" Molly asked, holding the crips in the air. I shook my head, sitting on the stool Sherlock had been sitting on.

"Scotland Yard, more than likely." I said, as Molly tossed the crisps my way, and I caught them, tearing the bag open.

"Sorry again about your lunch date." I apologized. She only smiled.

"It's alright." She held up her phone. "He understood, and we rescheduled for tomorrow. "Are you not going with them?" She asked. I shrugged, then shook my head.

"To late to catch up with them now, and something about it being kids, just…" I trailed off, and Molly nodded, understanding.

"Have you thought about kids?" She asked, a smile on her face.

"Well...no. Not really." I answered, honestly. "But can you imagine little Sherlock's running around?" I asked. She chuckled.

"That would be cute."

"That would be terrifying!" I corrected. She laughed harder.

"But Sherlock as a dad?" She wondered. I nodded.

"I don't think Sherlock would be a bad dad." I admitted.

"Really?" She wondered. I nodded again.

"Yeah. He can be nice, at times." She nodded.

"And I think you would be a great mother."

"I don't know." I said, looking down at the counter, fiddling with a few of the leftover breadcrumbs that escaped the envelope.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Molly asked.

"I don't think I would be."

"Why not?"

I shrugged, making her laugh.

"You don't even know?" She giggled. I laughed a little as well, as my phone vibrated on the table, no doubt Sherlock or John wondering where I was, and if I was going to meet them.

I stayed with Molly until her lunch break was over, then headed to Scotland Yard. Sherlock met me outside, catching me up on our way to look for the kids.

"An abandoned candy factory?" I asked.

"Yes. PGPR is used in making chocolate. Where else would you find it combined with asphalt, and clay."

I nodded. "Smart. But how did you know the exact factory? How did you know where it was?"

"Homeless Network." was all he said, as we pulled up to the factory. Police officers jumped out of their cars, running towards the building, switching their flashlights on as they entered.

" You, look over there. Look _everywhere_. Okay, spread out, please. _Spread out. _She can come with me." Sally said, nodding towards me. I shrugged, and followed her, not wanting her to go on her own like she was originally going to.

We walked further into the building, shining our lights towards the ground, and around us, looking for any signs of the kids.

"They're still here." I heard Sherlock call from somewhere in the building.

No doubt the two ran to hide if they heard the cars and the officers.

I stayed close behind Sally as we turned a curve, and she stopped, before moving closer, slowly, to two small figures huddled together. We shined our lights towards them, finding the little girl, her brother's head in her lap, his eyes closed, as she looked around towards us.

"Over here!" She yelled, moving towards them, reaching down to them, and I did the same, taking the girl's hand in mine, while Sally reached for the boy. Claudette gripped my hand like a lifeline, as other officers rushed behind us.

"It's alright. We've got you, don't worry."

* * *

"They were eating candy, the wrappers lined with mercury." Sherlock told me, as we waited for Lestrade and Sally to finish talking to Claudette.

My stomach began to feel sick.

"Poor things." Sherlock rested a hand on my shoulder.

"They're alright. The girl is awake, but the boy is still in intensive care."

"And he'll be fine too, yeah?" I asked. He smiled a little.

"As far as we know." he said, as we met Lestrade.

"Right, then. The professionals have finished. If the amateurs wanna go in and have their turn …" Sally said, coming out of the office. I sighed, ignoring her.

John rose from his seat to follow us into the room, but Greg stopped Sherlock before he could open the door.

"Now, remember, she's still in shock and she's just seven years old, so anything you can do to …"

"...not be myself." Sherlock finished for him. Greg nodded.

"Yeah, might be helpful." He said, and Sherlock sighed, putting the collar down on his coat.

The girl sat at a desk, looking at her lap, while a female officer sat beside of her, rubbing her arm reassuringly, both of them turning when they heard the door open.

" Claudette, I …" He began, but then she began to scream, pointing towards Sherlock. Greg pushed John and I out of the way.

"No-no, I know it's been hard for you …" Sherlock tried, and Greg grabbed his shoulder. "Claudette, listen to me …"

"Out." Lestrade demanded. "_Get out!"_

* * *

"Makes no sense." John said. As soon as we entered Lestrade's office, Sherlock moved to the window, staring out, not saying anything.

"The kid's traumatised. Something about Sherlock reminds her of the kidnapper." Lestrade explained.

"So what's she said?" I asked.

"Hasn't uttered another syllable." Sally informed us.

"And the boy?" John asked.

"No. He's unconscious. Still in intensive care."

" Well, don't let it get to you. _I_ always feel like screaming when you walk into a room! In fact, so do _most_ people." Lestrade jokes, and I laughed quietly, as he looked around to Sally, John, and I.

"Come on." He said, and John and I left the room, Lestrade following us out.

* * *

John caught a cab, just as Sherlock walked out.

"Ah." he said.

"You okay?" I asked. He didn't seem...like his normal self.

"Thinking." he responded as the taxi pulled up. "This is my cab. You get the next one." he said.

"Why?" John asked, as Sherlock got in.

"You might talk." he said, shutting the door, and the taxi pulled away. John sighed.

"Really?" he asked, hailing another, our taxi following Sherlock's.

We rode in silence, both of us looking out of our windows.

"So, how was your day?" he asked me. I nodded.

"It was alright."

"Feeling better?" he asked, an eyebrow raised. I sighed.

"Much."

He looked like he wanted to ask, but instead, kept his mouth closed.

We went silent again, until the cab came to a screeching halt.

"Sherlock!" John yelled, jumping from the cab, and I ran after him, finding out what stopped the cab. Sherlock was on the street, his cab gone, and a figure, a man, at his feet, a small pool of red liquid flowing onto the sidewalk. I stopped dead in my tracks, and Sherlock held a hand up, in a silent warning, telling me it was in my best interest not to come any closer.

"What happend?" I asked, loud enough Sherlock could hear me, but instead he just stared down at him, then looked at the building behind him, studying it. I followed his gaze, and watched as a figure moved quickly, running away. Sherlock obviously didn't see him, and I was frozen.

* * *

" That ... it's him. It's him. Sulejmani or something. Mycroft showed me his file. He's a big Albanian gangster lives two doors down from us." John said. Police and an ambulance had been called, by who, I wasn't sure. Sherlock only stood and watched as the ambulance team wheeled the man into the ambulance.

"Well, that's reassuring. How many other gangsters are living near us?" I asked.

"You'd be surprised."

"He died because I shook his hand." Sherlock explained.

"What?" I asked.

"He saved my life but he couldn't touch me. Why?"

"He saved your life? Sherlock, what happened?" I asked, but he stormed away.

* * *

Sherlock walked into the living room, rapidly, yanking off his scarf and coat, and moved to his laptop.

"Four assassins living right on our doorstep. They didn't come here to kill me; they have to keep me alive. I've got something that all of them want, but if one of them approaches me …"

"... the others kill them before they can get it." John finished. Sherlock grunted in response, typing away on his laptop.

"All of the attention is focussed on me. There's a surveillance web closing in on us right now."

"So what have you got that's so important?" I asked, moving behind Sherlock to look at the computer screen. There were several different WiFi networks, all in different languages.

He ran his finger along the table beside his laptop.

"We need to ask about the dusting."

He drug Mrs. Hudson upstairs, our landlady still him her nightdress and dressing gown. Meanwhile, Sherlock moved around the flat, checking the dust.

"Precise details: in the last week, what's been cleaned?" He asked.

"Well, Tuesday I did your lino …" She began, but Sherlock interrupted her.

"No, in here, _this_ room. This is where we'll find it – any break in the dust line. You can put back anything but dust." he lifted his hand, holding a finger in the air. "Dust is eloquent."

"What's he on about?" She asked us. We only shook our heads.

"Cameras. We're being watched."

I stared at Sherlock, wide eyed, and Mrs. Hudson crossed her arms over her chest.

" What? Cameras? Here? I'm in my nightie!"

"How long have they been here?" I asked, thinking back to the past few months….the things they might have seen...not entirely all my fault, blame him, but…

The doorbell rung, and Mrs. Hudson hurried to answer it, and John followed. I pulled my sweater cardigan on tighter, moving closer into the room, as Sherlock moved to the bookshelf, standing on the furniture. He moved one of the books, and pulled out a tiny camera, as John, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade walked into the living room.

"No, Inspector." Sherlock said, not turning around.

"What?" Lestrade asked.

"The answer is no." he clarified, stepping down, and going to his laptop.

"But you haven't heard the question!"

"You want to take me to the station. Just saving you the trouble of asking."

"Sherlock…" Lestrade began.

"The scream?" Sherlock interrupted.

"Yeah."

"What about it?" I asked, confused.

"Who was it? Donovan? I bet it was Donovan. Am I somehow responsible for the kidnapping? Ah, Moriarty is smart. He planted that doubt in her head; that little nagging sensation. You're going to have to be strong to resist. You can't kill an idea, can you? Not once it's made a home …" he reaches forward touched Greg's forehead, right between his eyes "... there."

"Will you come?" Lestrade asked.

"Lestrade, you _know_ he didn't do it." I tried to reason, but Lestrade smiled at me, sadly.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I've got to."

"One photograph – that's his next move. Moriarty's game: first the scream, then a photograph of me being taken in for questioning. He wants to destroy me inch by inch." Sherlock said, from his seat, picking up the camera again, then looking to Greg.

"It is a game, Lestrade, and not one I'm willing to play. Give me regards to Donovan."

Greg sighed, and left, John walking with him to see him out, as Sherlock continued to fiddle with the camera.

"They'll be deciding." Sherlock said. I watched them drive off from the window. John still hasn't come back upstairs, no doubt with Mrs. Hudson.

"Deciding?" I asked.

"Whether or not to come back with a warrant and arrest me."

My stomach churned, and it felt as if someone was sitting on my chest at the thought of Sherlock getting arrested. He didn't do it… I _know _he didn't do it, _Greg_ knows he didn't do it….he had to…

"Would they?" I asked, quietly.

"Standard procedure."

"You should have gone with him. People will think…"

"I don't care what people think." He cut me off.

"You would care if they thought you were stupid...or wrong."

"No because that would make _them_ stupid or wrong."

I sighed.

"Sherlock, I don't want the world believing that you're a…" I trailed off, sitting in the chair beside him.

"A what?"

"A fraud." I whispered.

"You're afraid they're right."

"Excuse me?"

"You're afraid they're right about me. that's why you're so upset. You can't even entertain the possibility that they might be right. You're afraid that you've been taken in as well. Moriarty is playing with your mind too." He slammed his hand onto the table."Can't you see what's going on?!"

"No." I said, grabbing his free hand. "No it's because you're my husband, and I love you, and I can't _stand _the _thought_ of people thinking the worst of you. But _never_ for a _second_ did I think, or will I think that they are right about you." He gave my hand a squeeze, and his lips turned up in a smile.

"I love you, too." He said, something he rarely said, almost never said, making the word, especially considering the circumstances, felt like a kick to the guy. He reached a hand out, gently placing it on my cheek, his thumb brushing against my cheek bone.

"Why don't you get some sleep." He suggested. I shook my head. "I'll go back there and stay with you until they get here, if you'd like.

I stood up and grabbed his hand, dragging him over to the couch. He sat down, and I curled up beside him, leaning against his shoulder, his hand tangling itself in my hair, brushing it out, away from my face.

I didn't sleep- I couldn't sleep. My mind raced, going don't one thought to another, never resting. I felt the pressure in my chest build, and I got harder and harder to breath. Sherlock, of course, could tell, and leaned his head against mine, whispering, which helped a little, but, sadly, not completely.

"So, still got some friends on the Force." John said, coming back upstairs, putting his phone in his pocket. "That was Lestrade. Says they're all coming over here right now, queuing up to slap on the handcuffs: every single officer you ever made feel like a tit, which is a lot of people.

Mrs. Hudson knocked, and came in, still in here nightwear.

"Oh, sorry. Am I interrupting something?" she asked. "Some chap delivered a parcel. I forgot. Marked 'Perishable'- I had to sign for it."

John took a bog from her, and showed up the seal.

"Funny name, " Mrs. Hudson went on. "German, like the fairytales."

John opened the bag, and pulled out it's contents, tilting it so we could see.

"Burnt to a crisp." Sherlock mumbled, and I could hear the cars outside of our window, see the lights flashing on the building across the street.

"What does it mean?" he asked, referring to the gingerbread man.

The doorbell rang, and at the same time, someone knocked on the door. Mrs. Hudson rushed to answer it.

"Evening, Mrs. Hudson." I heard Lestrade say downstairs. The pressure on my chest was back again.

"we need to talk to you!" Donovan called. John put the gingerbread down, before heading out.

"Don't barge in like that!" Mrs. Hudson yelled, sounding angry. Sherlock placed a quick kiss on the top of my head, before getting up, putting on his coat and scarf.

"Have you got a warrant?" I heard John ask. "Have you?"

"Leave it, John." Lestrade said, while Mrs. Hudson complained about their manners.

Lestrade stood in front of him, while officers began to put him in cuffs.

"Sherlock Holmes, I'm arresting you on suspicion of abduction and kidnapping."

"He's not resisting." John argued.

"It's all right, John." Sherlock said.

"He's not resisting." I agreed. "No, it's not alright, this is ridiculous."

"Get him downstairs, now." Lestrade said to the two officers.

"You know you don't have to…" I began, but Lestrade turned around, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Elizabeth, please, don't interfere, or I shall have to arrest you, too, and I don't want to do that. You're too sweet of a girl." he sent me a sad, apologetic smile, before leaving. I felt another hand on my shoulder, and turned to find Mrs. Hudson, almost in tears.

"You done?" I asked Sally.

"Oh, I said it." She said, a smug look on her face. "First time we met." She looked to John.

"Don't bother." He said.

""Solving crimes won't be enough. One day he'll cross the line." Now, ask yourself: what sort of man would kidnap those kids just so he can impress us all by finding them?" She asked. I heard Mrs. Hudson gasp.

"Is that what this is about? They think he did that?" She asked, quietly. I turned around and nodded.

"Yeah. For once I agree with him about Scotland Yard….they're stupid." her hand found it's way back to my shoulder.

"Got our man?" A stranger asked.

"Yes, sir." Donovan answered.

"Looked a bit of a weirdo, if you ask me." he said. "Often are, these vigilante types."

I could practically see John's blood boiling.

"What are you looking at?" The man asked John. I lowered my head, and turned back to Mrs. Hudson, attempting to divert her attention, as John chinned the Chief Superintendent…

* * *

I watched from the window as Sherlock and John escaped, while Mrs. Hudson made some coffee downstairs, asking me to come and join her if I wanted to, cheer us up a bit. I doubted it would work, but I definitely wasn't going to sleep tonight, staying up waiting on a phone call, or a text…

We waited for hours, just chatting, I kept an eye on my phone, sitting on her table, and Mrs. Hudson never raised her voice too loudly, in case the phone rang and she missed it.

In the early hours of the next morning, I got a phone call from an unknown number. I picked it up immediately, Mrs. H watching ,expectantly, from the other side of the kitchen.

"Hello?"

"Elizabeth?" I heard them ask. It sounded like Sherlock, though I couldn't be sure.

"Yeah, Sherlock?"

"Yes. Are you in the flat?" He asked.

"No, I'm at Mrs. Hudson's right now, why? Is everything okay?"

"Get some things from the flat, stay with Mrs. Hudson for a couple of nights. The assassins, whatever they want, it's apparently in the flat. We got the chance to talk to one of them. Moriarty planted it on me. No doubt, since I'm gone, they'll at least _try_ to snoop around. I think it would be best if you weren't there." He suggested.

"Is that Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson asked, quietly. I nodded, and she smiled.

"Okay, will do. Where are you? Are you guys okay?" I asked, worried out of my mind. I heard him chuckle.

"We're fine, Elizabeth. We're heading to Bart's to stay there for a while, lay low."

"Oh. Alright."  
"Are you okay?" He asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. We're both fine."

"Good." I could hear his smile. "Listen, I can't talk very long, we have to go, but please try to be in the flat as little as possible, if you even have to go in at all, please."

"Alright."

"I'll talk to you soon." he said, and then hung up.

"What did he say?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"I'm going to have to stay hree for a while, if that's alright. Something about assassins watching the flat.

"Oh, of course, I'll make you a bed on the couch, you go and get your things. We could rent movies, it would be like a slumber party!" She smiled, her mood improving majorly. I can't say mine did the same.

I was relieved to know he was alright, that he and John got away, but it still didn't completely calm my fears.

I got a few pairs of jeans and shirts, and some pajamas, along with my toothbrush and paste, before rushing back to to Mrs. Hudson's. The bed on the couch was already made, and the lights were off except for a lamp in the corner, so I assumed she had already gone to bed, thank goodness. We both needed our sleep.

I kept my phone on, putting it on the end table, before changing, and lying on the couch, falling asleep instantly.

* * *

John called, and told me where they were at Bart's, so I went to meet them.

John ran out as I left, and I continued in. Sherlock was sitting on the ground, bouncing a ball onto the cabinet and the floor, repeatedly.

"What's going on."

"Apparently Mrs. Hudson's been shot since you left this morning. John got a call from the paramedics."

"Oh my God."

"She's dying, according to John."

"Are you not going to go?" I asked, putting my purse back on my shoulder, texting John to hold the cab for me.

"I'm busy." he said.

"Doing what? Bouncing a ball? Too busy to check on you dying landlady?" I wondered. "Doesn't she mean anything to you? You threw a man out of a window repeatedly, because he laid a finger on her, and now she's dying, but you have to sit and bounce a ball. That's keeping you too preoccupied right now, it's so much more important?" I asked.

"Thinking. I need to think." He said. "And you said it. She's just my landlady." He shrugged.

"Really? You know what, forget this. Stay here if you want. You….you _machine."_

* * *

"Oh, God! John, you made me jump." She giggled as John and I walked into 221. Mrs. Hudson was watching a man fix something on the wall. She was fine. "Is everything alright with the police? Has Sherlock sorted it all out?" John and Ionly stared at her, before leaving again.

Once we reached Barts, John jumped out of the cab, quickly, as his phone rang.

"Hello?" He said. I fell in step beside him. "Hey, Sherlock, you okay?" John stopped. "No, I'm coming in." He turned around, and walked back again. "Where?" He asked.

"John, what are you doing?" I asked, laughing at him. He stopped. "Sherlock?" I walked to join him.

"What's going on?" I asked, John positioned the phone so that we could both hear.

"I'm on the rooftop." He told us.

"Oh, God." John said.

"I ... I ... I can't come down, so we'll ... we'll just have to do it like this."

"What?" I asked.

"An apology. It's all true."

"Wh-what?"

"Everything they said about em. I invented Moriarty."

"Sherlock, why are you saying this?" I asked.

"I'm fake." He said, his voice breaking.

"Sherlock…"

"The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade; I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson, and Molly...in fact, tell anyone who will listen to you that I created Moriarty for my own purposes." His voice was becoming tearful.

"okay, shut up, Sherlock, shut up." John said. "The first time we met...the first time we met, you knew all about Harry."

"nobody could be that clever."

"You could."

Sherlock laughed.

"I researched you. Before we met I discovered everything that I would to impress you." he paused. "It's a trick. Just a magic trick." John began to shake his head, but I couldn't move.

"No, alright, stop it now." He began to walk towards the entrance, taking the phone away from my ear, but something stopped him. He moved the phone again, so that I could hear, and I leaned forward.

"All right." he said.

"Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this for me?"

"Do what?" I asked.

"This phone call-it's er...it's my note. It's what people do, don't they-leave a note.

I felt as if I had been punched in the gut a good twenty times in a row.

"Leave a note, when?" John asked.

"Goodbye John. Will you hand the phone to Elizabeth. Please." John shoved the phone towards me, then began pacing.

"Sherlock, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean…." I tried, but I couldn't say anything else. I wanted to cry. Tears were building in my eyes, I couldn't breath, there was a giant lump in my throat, and yet, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't.

"Shh. It's alright." He stayed silent for a moment. "I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry."

Then the dam broke. My tears became uncontrollable, and, I'm sure, my sentences almost incoherent.

"Sherlock, please, come down." My voice had raised an octave or two, my nose running, as I wiped tears off onto my sleeve the best that I could, trying to keep my eyes clear enough to see.

"I can't, love. Not the way you want me too."

"Please." I begged, quietly. It was silent.

"Goodbye, Elizabeth." he said, finally. "I love you."

I tried. but I couldn't. I couldn't get out the 'Goodbye', or say that I loved him, too. I tried so, so hard, yet nothing came out.

He threw the phone to the ground, and I heard John scream, then the rest was a giant blur.

I remember running towards the crowd that had formed around Sherlock's body, pushing through them, trying to get to him, then, almost instantly regretting it.

John was close behind me, reaching around to get his pulse, while people grabbed our arms, pulling us back, away from him, as they picked him up, putting him on the stretcher.

The crowd began to dissipate, some people staying, yet they remained silent, watching, staring at the concrete where Sherlock fell.

I just fell back on my knees, and cried.

* * *

I didn't go to the funeral….I couldn't. I stayed cooped up in the flat, the curtains closed, in my pajamas, while John and Mrs. Hudson went on.

After the funeral had ended, and John and Mrs. Hudson got home, John going to Mrs. Hudson's, giving me time alone, I went to the bedroom, putting on a simple black dress, and grabbing the flowers I bought for his grave.

They weren't anything special, really. I didn't even know what kind they were.

I didn't really _care._ Not anymore…

I don't' remember the taxi ride there, or even how I found my way to Sherlock's grave, or how long I sat in the grass, on my knees, staring at the tombstone.

There was so much to say, yet nothing at all. So many things I wanted to tell him, yet so little.

"I'm sorry." Was all I could get out, my voice hoarse, quite, a lump building in my throat.

The last, proper conversation we had, I called him a machine, I was angry with him. Furious.

I got up, walked over to the gravestone, putting my flowers down beside it, placing my hand on the cold stone.

"Goodbye, Sherlock. I love you, too." I whispered. I closed my eyes, trying to get rid of any tears that might have spilled over, compose myself a little, before walking back towards the main road. And once I was in the cab, I let the tears flow freely.

**Oh, my, wow, I honestly didn't think I was going to cry… yet, here I am, bawling…(Good job, Christa…. :/)**

**Anyway, I'll leave you guys with that. No review responses for this chapter, 'll all be in the next one, though. I just feel that this chapter needs to be left at where we're leaving it…**

**~Eruaphadriel**


	37. Author's note, please read!

Hello, fellow goofy goobers!

A few quick announcements before we go on to season 3:

I know the last few chapters have been a little rough, and have had a long wait in between them. I know how annoying that can be, but some of you guys have really stuck with me

As, kind of a little gift, I am taking questions about upcoming chapters, through PM, my tumblr (heil_loki) and my kik (cece1913).

**I will hold no information back!** If you want spoilers? I'll give you spoilers!

This is only going to go on until the 16th (1 week from now!), which will be when the next chapter will be published (planning on making it a long one!), so please, ask away!

2) REVIEWS!  
Decided to go ahead and answer some, since I'm here…

* * *

_From: enp_

_:)_

* * *

:)

* * *

_From: Noxy the Proxy_

_I was wondering how you would do this bit. If You'd have Elizabeth in on it or not...Guess not...well Then I will patiently wait for the next chapter._

_Excellent By the way._

* * *

Thank you, doll!

I'm sorry it didn't go how you expected, but I have some plans for The Empty Hearse, and she couldn't be in on it….not entirely, anyway ;)

* * *

_From: xxyangxx2006_

_Oh man...damn… I felt really bad for everyone involved before whenever I watch the series, but now I have a new character to feel bad for. That and she was his wife and made it so that Sherlock knew that she was on his side. Their goodbye also clawed at my heart because Sherlock was so sad he couldn't do what she asked. Can't wait to see what you do with season 3. Keep up the great work!_

* * *

_*Sings* _Season three….. is going to be so FUN!

I can't wait to start writing it, and I have a few ideas, one that is set in stone, and another that is kind of shifting around, but I'm excited!

Funny story: when I started writing that bit where he...you know... I stopped myself, and though _Alright, Chris...we're not going to cry….we didn't cry watching the show, as hard as that may have been, but we're not going to cry writing it...we're going to be fine _(I have to talk to myself like I'm talking to a friend….just something weird that I do, I don't know why)

So I started writing, and all was well, and then I thought..._wow...this is kind of sad, to me...really sad...we can't do this…._ and then the dam broke and I was sitting at my computer in the middle of the night, crying and typing simultaneously….it was a sight to see…

* * *

So, don't forget to ask questions...if the chapter comes out before the deadline, it was because I'm impatient, and just couldn't wait, BUT you guys can still submit questions until Wednesday :)

Thank you guys for reading (sorry it wasn't a chapter), and I'll catch you on the flip side! ;)

~Eruaphadriel


	38. Chapter 38

**Merry Christmas you filthy animals!**

**So, I was planning on, before New Years, having a bit of a playlist for this story put together, to listen to as you read, and I have some songs in there, but not enough. If you guys have a song that you think would really fit, please recommend it! I don't have a whole lot, just a couple, and I'm still searching, and if you guys could send some in, that would be AMAZING! Thank you!**

**This chapter is going to jump back and forth in time (thought it would be a little more interesting :) ) and there are going to be a few POV switches in those time jumps, so pay attention….**

**I have answered all of the questions I am going to, no mas (no more) after this point...well, you can, but you'll get very vague answers. **

**I also am doing a bit more third person in here than I usually would, so bear with me if it's bad. I actually like writing in third person more than I do first…:/ I don't know why...seems easier, but I like the challenge of first person, too. **

_**Italics**_ **are going to be things that happened in the **_**past**_**, while everything else will just be normal.**

**:)**

**Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU to the amazing LondonLovesTea for looking over, and helping me with this chapter! Such a HUGE help!**

**A few songs for this chapter:**

**London- Patrick Wolf**

**Train Song- Feist and Ben Gibbard**

**Home-Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros**

_**What will I do if there's someone there with you?**_

_**Maybe someone you've always known**_

_**How do I know I can come and give to you?**_

_**Love with no warning and find you alone**_

_**It's so many miles and so long since I've met you**_

_**Don't even know what I'll find when I get to you**_

_**But suddenly now I know where I belong**_

_**It's many hundred miles and it won't be long**_

_**-Train Song, Feist and Ben Gibbard**_

He sat in his leather wingback chair, glancing at a police report, making his deductions, when his cell phone rang. He picked it up, already deciding to ignore it, but when he saw it was Elizabeth, he quickly slammed his thumb down on the 'Answer' button, but spoke as calmly as he could.

"Elizabeth. Nice to hear from you again. How are you?" He tried making conversation, but the voice over the phone wasn't Elizabeth's.  
"Mycroft?" She asked.

"Mrs. Hudson. What do you want?" He sighed. Hanging up would be considered rude, and she would just call back again and again until he offered an answer that may satisfy her.

"Well, it's just…" She hesitated, and he wanted to die. "I'm going away on holiday with a girlfriend of mine, " was...oh, no she meant friend… "I was wondering, if you, along with John would come visit Elizabeth every once in awhile. Make sure she's eating, sleeping at night, not during the day, keeping the flat clean, so on." She sighed, loudly. "She was doiso well...I don't know what happened." She sounded as if she were going to cry. "She was doing well, and then, gradually, she got worse in the past few months. Like it finally caught up with her."

"Maybe it has." He sighed, exasperated.

"I'm just asking if you could come and keep her company, and make sure shes alright in the morning while John is at work. Then he takes the rest of the day."

She would only continue to argue with him. "Fine." He agreed. "Why me?"  
"You're her brother-in-law." She said, as if it was obvious.

"_Was_ her brother-in-law. '_Till death do us part.'._" He reminded, painfully. He truly did care for Elizabeth, in some capacity, and was happy that out of all the women in the world, _she_ was the one Sherlock chose to marry, and that she was the one that became part of the Holmes family.

"Either way, she _does_ still think of you as her brother, and it would mean the _world_ to her if you came every so often, even when I'm here. I'm leaving early this morning, around two o'clock."

"What time do I need to be there."

"She is usually awake around ten."

"Then I'll be there at ten-thirty." That gives her time to freshen up. Sherlock had told him that some mornings, when she's just woken up, she could be a bit of a grouch. He would rather not have her glaring at him for being so early.

"Thank you, Mycroft, than-"

He hung up, and threw him phone on the table, looking to the figure in the corner.

"She's worse." He said, picking up a paper, and pretending to read it.

The figure only let out a low hum, and Mycroft saw the man slouch, his hands going to hold his head, elbows resting on his knees, and he let out a groan, almost as if he were in pain.

* * *

He waited until 10:30 precisely to enter the flat, and walk up the stairs, finding Elizabeth, curled up in the red recliner, a book propped in her lap, and a tray of uneaten food in the floor beside her.

"Not hungry?" he asked, pointing his umbrella to the food. She turned to look at him, and what he saw, was not the Elizabeth he had seen a year ago.

She was thinner, collar bones protruding,paler, almost a sickly pale, and her eyes were dull, lifeless, and didn't have the usual sparkle they had years ago.

She looked...well, dead.

She only shook her head. "Why are you here?" She asked, her voice almost monotone, and so quite, Mycroft had to lean forward and read her lips.

"To look after you. Obviously whoever has been doing so before me was doing a lousy job." He put his umbrella and his coat on the sofa, before stomping to the tray, picking it up. He took the book from her hands, putting the tray there instead.

"Eat." he commanded.

"I'm not hungry." She said through her teeth. He wasn't giving up.

"I don't care. I don't know how you're not hungry, anyway. You look like you haven't eaten in ages." He commented, sitting himself in Sherlock's chair. Elizabeth made no effort to eat, instead only glared at him. "Sherlock would want you to, Elizabeth."

This seemed to make something click in her, though Mycroft didn't know whether it was good or bad, and she picked up the fork, shoving a small bit of eggs into her mouth, before putting the tray back down again.

"All of it." he said, before the tray hit the floor. She sighed, and put it back in her lap.

"Where is he?" She whispered, putting some syrup on her eggs (which made Mycroft cringe a little). "Where has he been?"

"I'm sure he had told you."

She nodded, taking another bite. "Dismantling Moriarty's network, I know, but I want to know where he is. Is he safe? Is he coming back?"

"I don't know about 'coming back', but I know he's safe, and he's close."

Some of the tension seemed to dissipate once she realised he was alright, and Mycroft saw her shoulders fall, and she sighed in relief. "How close?"

He debated on whether or not to tell her. "Very."

"Mycroft." She begged. He only sighed.

"He's in London." He said slowly. He was sure if she had the energy, she would have jumped from the chair and hugged him….he was thankful she couldn't.

"Is he coming to visit?" She asked. Mycroft shrugged.

"I don't know. I don't know if he's staying." He lied. He wasn't going to tell her the whole plan…

"Oh." Her face fell, and she slumped back in the chair. "Well, if you see him, tell him I miss him."

He smiled. "I will."

The corners of her mouth raised slightly. "Thank you."

"When was the last time you saw him?" Mycroft wondered.

"A couple of days after the funeral." She answered.  
"Hmm. I thought he would have been in touch."

Elizabeth shook her head. "No calls, no texts. I didn't know where he was, if he was alive, when he was coming to visit, if he was ever going to visit at all…." She trailed off.

"Well, I'll be sure to lecture him." he attempted to joke, then checked his watch. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting I'm going to be late for." he stood, and walked to the couch to retrieve his coat and umbrella. "It was nice to see you." He nodded to her.

"Nice to see you, too. Thank you."

"No problem." He opened the door, but stopped before walking out. "And, Elizabeth." She turned to him again. "If you may need anything, please, do not hesitate to call."

"Thank you." She said, giving a weak smile, though it was nothing compared to how she used to grin.

"That's what brothers are for."

* * *

_Elizabeth POV_

_My morning went on like every other morning._

_It was silent when I woke up, and the other side of the bed was freezing. I walked into the kitchen, the only one in the flat, made some coffee, and pulled a chair to the window, looking out at the street, letting the coffee warm my usually cold hands. Mrs. Hudson would come up with breakfast, always, conveniently making a little extra on 'accident', and I would poke at it, maybe eat a little bit, and throw the rest away._

_It had been a week since Sherlock died, only a couple of days after his funeral._

_John came to visit after he got off work. He had already moved out, moving in with his new girlfriend. He thought it was better if he left the flat…_

_But he never came very early, so when I heard footsteps unlike those of Mrs. Hudson's (who had gone out for the day, and wouldn't be home until late), I panicked, and rose from the chair, walking to the door, only to come face to face with my dead husband._

_I said nothing...he said nothing. We just stared at each other, unblinking._

_He couldn't be real...he was a ghost. I'm looking at a ghost._

_I closed my eyes, squeezing them shut, hoping, maybe this was a trick, a mind trick, and I was just seeing things, and when I opened my eyes, he would be gone, but instead, he was standing there, staring at me, concerned._

"_Are you alright?" he asked. I didn't say anything._

_I was going crazy, seeing my dead husband._

_Not opening my eyes, I turned around, and walked back to the chair, but something grabbed my arm._

"_Elizabeth, look at me."_

_I ignored the voice in my head. I was imagining things. This was probably a well-wisher, someone here to say they were sorry for my loss, and I'm replacing their face with his._

_I miss him too much._

"_Elizabeth!" Sherlock's voice yelled, and it sounded so real, it was almost physically painful._

_No, scratch that, it was excruciating._

"_Please. Look at me." The voice begged, whatever had a hold of my arm, loosening, until it fell, and I heard footsteps move in front of him, and I heard his voice whisper my name again._

_I took a deep breath, and opened my eyes, not looking at...him...and moving to the kitchen, grabbing a mug from the cabinet, and making coffee, all too aware of the presence in the living room, watching me as I did so, not moving._

'_It'll go away, Elizabeth. It always does.'_

_This wasn't the first time it had happened._

_I had been going to see John's therapist, of course because John recommended it, thinking it would help. We had talked about this happening, and she told me to keep ignoring it until, one day, it went away all together._

_I finished making the coffee, and sat in John's chair, trying to read, until it became too unbearable. I slammed the book shut, throwing it to Sherlock's old chair, and slamming my mug down on the table._

"_What do you want from me?" I asked the ghost, standing, and staring at him. "Why do you keep doing this? Why do you keep coming every day, and torturing me?! You're _dead_! If you're dead, stay dead, stop coming around here!" I screamed at it, throwing a pillow, hitting it in the chest, but it only bounced right back, as if the ghost had a real body._

"_Elizabeth." It said, sadly. "This is the first time I've ever been here."_

_I stared at him-it-whatever it was, and walked closer, until I was close enough to feel heat radiating from it._

_He was...alive…_

_But he isn't._

_He couldn't…._

_I took a finger, and poked his chest. He rolled back on his heels, and came forward again when I took my finger down._

"_You're real." I whispered, shaking my head. "But you're dead. You can't be here, you're dead. I saw you die, they buried your body."_

_He reached a hand out to my arm, but I stepped back, quickly, trying to put some distance between us, but I tripped, and fell back. He reached forward, catching my waist before I could hit the ground._

_I regained my balance, and pushed him off._

"_How are you here? _Why _are you here?" I asked, furious._

"_Well, obviously, I'm not dead."_

"_But you are."  
_"_Elizabeth. I'm real." He took my hand, and placed it over his heart so I could feel it beat, faintly._

"_Would a ghost have a heartbeat?" He asked._

_I didn't say anything. I just stared at his hands on mine._

"_Are you alright?" He asked. I shook my head, slowly._

"_No!" I said, loudly, almost laughing. "No, I'm not. I'm not alright at all. This is not okay?" I yanked my hand away.  
_"_Really?" He asked. "I thought you, of all people, would be happy...ecstatic."_

"_I am, believe me, but…." I trailed off._

"_You're pissed." He guessed. I nodded._

"_Very. I am _very _pissed." I agreed. "Why? Why would you do that? Why would you play such a sick joke, "_

"_It wasn't a joke." he answered, calmly._

"_It wasn't a joke?"_

"_Well, no one's , I had to die, or you would. John would. Mrs. Hudson, Gavin,"_

"_Greg." I corrected._

"_Greg." He said. "Moriarty's men would have killed you all, unless I killed myself, hurled myself off of the building."_

"_Then how did you survive. How are you here?" I asked. He smirked._

"_A magician never reveals his secrets." He said, then moved to the table, pulling a few kleenexes out, handing them to me. "Here." He offered._

_I took them, and rubbed my face with my wrist, my cheeks soaked. I hadn't noticed that I had been crying._

"_Thanks." I dried my tears the best that I could, but didn't say anything. He didn't talk either, and we stood there in silence, Sherlock watching me, concerned once again, while I was still wondering if he was real._

_I looked away from the floor, and to Sherlock, who had moved to the centre of the living room, and walked towards him, wrapping my arms around his torso, crying into his shirt._

_I decided , if this was a ghost, I wasn't going to ignore him, because it was Sherlock. It looked like him, talked like him, and it was the closest thing to him that I had, and I didn't want to lose it._

_God, it even smelled like he did._

"_I'm sorry." he whispered. I didn't say that it was okay, because it wasn't._

"_Thank you." I responded._

"_For?" He asked. I only shrugged._

"_This doesn't mean I'm not still pissed."_

"_I know."_

_I pulled away from him._

"_Do you want anything to eat?" I asked. He shrugged._

"_Why not." he answered, as the front door shut, and Mrs. Hudson called my name._

_Sherlock and I looked to each other, wide eyed, and I shoved him back towards the bedroom, pushing him in, and slamming the door._

"_Oh, did you just wake up?" She asked. "Sorry, I forgot to bring up some breakfast. Thought I would hurry and bring it up before I left."_

"_Uh, yeah, I did." I said. She sat the tray on the table, and came closer, a small shriveled hand coming to my cheek._

"_Oh, dear. Have you been crying?" She asked, but didn't let me answer before she wrapped her tiny arms around my shoulders, giving them a quick squeeze. "Are you alright?" She asked, then shook her head. "That was a silly question. Of course, you're still not alright, are you?" She took my hand, and lead my to the living room, to the couch. "Do you want to talk?" She asked. I heard something fall in the bedroom. "What was that?" She asked, going to stand, but I put a hand on her shoulder._

"_I left the window open, there was a bird, he flies in from time to time. He'll leave." I lied. She smiled._

"_It's a good day to have the windows open. Nice and warm." She went to open the other two windows, coughing as the dust from the curtains flew into the air._

"_Well, I'll leave you to your breakfast. Yell if you need anything." She said, and then left._

_I waited for a second, before running to the kitchen, grabbing the tray, and then back to the bedroom, kicking the door, lightly, with my toes._

"_Let me in?" I whispered. A few seconds later the door opened, and Sherlock stared at the try, confused._

"_Mrs. Hudson brings me breakfast every morning." I said with a shrug._

_We climbed into bed, putting the tray in between us, and ate in silence. I occasionally looked over at Sherlock, only to find him staring back at me._

_We spent the day, mostly, in silence, neither one of us knowing what to say to the other. There was no new news that Sherlock didn't already know, other than John had moved out (which, I think, upset him more than he let on), and that, according to the news, he was, officially dead, and they ruled it as a suicide._

_And they never found Moriarty's body, that we know of. I hadn't talked to Greg about it._

_The sun had just begun to set, the sky now an orange, when I finally decided to ask the question that had plagued me since we had begun breakfast._

"_What now?"_

"_I obviously can't stay. Everyone thinks that I'm dead."_

"_So?" I asked. He only shrugged._

"_Mycroft is helping me track down some of Moriarty's network. May take up some odd jobs on the way."_

"_Sounds dangerous." I commented. _

"_Could be."_

"_You could die. For real, this time."_

_He didn't respond. He only sighed, and took my hand, giving it a squeeze._

"_Will I ever see you again? I mean, will you ever come to visit like this again?"_

"_I don't know."He said, sadly. I began to tear up again._

"_Stop that." Sherlock demanded, softly. I almost laughed, and tried to justify my crying._

"_This could be the last time we see each other…" I trailed off. He put a hand on the side of my face, turning it gently so that I was facing him._

"_But I promise that it won't be."_

_I woke up the next morning, expecting to see Sherlock, but instead there was only a note in his place._

_My dearest wife, Elizabeth,_

_I don't do well with emotions, nor do I do well expressing them, but, for this purpose,I will do my best to do what, to me, seems impossible._

_I, first, would like to thank you. Thank you, Elizabeth, truly. You have changed my life in ways that I would never have imagined, and, according to your brother, you being in my life has, apparently, made me more tolerable (I thought I was before, but some disagree…)_

_Secondly, I want to say that I love you. Love was a mystery to me, and it still doesn't make a lot of sense, and though I never said it as much as you might have liked to hear it, I am positive that I love you, more than I could ever imagine, more than I could ever express in one lifetime, and maybe not even then._

_To the world, I am dead, and I have one last request, for you, and for John._

_Though he could never know that I said it, or that I'm still alive, please, let John know that I appreciated his friendship, and thank him for it. _

_And Elizabeth, as I said, to the world, I am dead, and, as you've said, last night might have been the last time we will ever see each other. Please, don't wait for me. Move on. Meet someone who can treat you better, give you a normal life, someone who tells you, daily, that they love you, and make sure that you never forget that pays more attention to you, and who doesn't put your life in danger. Meet someone, remarry, have children, be happy. I can't stand it, and would never forgive myself, if you remained unhappy._

_I know it might be difficult, less difficult for you than for me, I'll be honest, but I don't want you waiting around for me, while missing out on the happy life you deserve._

_I love you._

_-Sherlock X_

The letter, which was now covered in tear stains, remained folded on my bedside table, wrapped around it, _his_ wedding band, which he had left behind, just like myself.

* * *

"You _have _been busy." Mycroft said from his desk, as his little brother read the news paper given to him while the barber shaved his face. "Quite the busy little bee."

"Moriarty's network. Took me two years to dismantle it." He replied.

"And you're confident you have?"

"The Serbian side was the last piece of the puzzle." Sherlock replied.

"Yes. You got yourself in deep there with-" He glanced at the report. "Baron Maupertuis. Quite a scheme."

"Colossal."

"Anyway, you're safe now." Mycroft assured him, closing the file that was lying on his desk. Sherlock only hummed in response.

"A small 'thank you' wouldn't go amiss."  
"What for?" Sherlock asked.

"Wading in."  
Sherlock waved his hand, and the barber moved back as Sherlock rose up to look at his brother.

"'Wading in'? You sat there and watched me being beaten to a pulp." He said, angrily.

"I got you out."

"No, I got me out. Why didn't you intervene sooner?"

"Well, I couldn't risk giving myself away, could I? It would have ruined everything."

"You were enjoying it." Sherlock commented.

"Nonsense."

"_Definitely_ enjoying it."

He laid back down, grunting in pain.

"Listen: do you have any idea what it was like, Sherlock, going 'under cover,' smuggling my way into their ranks like that? The _noise_; the _people_." Mycroft cringed.

"I didn't know you spoke Serbian." Sherlock admitted, as the barber went back to his work.

"I didn't, but the language has a Slavic root, frequent Turkish and German loan words. Took me a couple of hours." he shrugged. Sherlock hummed.

"You're slipping."

"Middle age, brother mine. It comes to us all." He smiled, as 'Anthea' walked into the room, holding in her hands a dark suit with a white shirt.

"I need you to give this matter your full attention, Sherlock. Is that clear?" Mycroft asked, as Sherlock tucked the shirt in.

"What do you think of this shirt?" Sherlock asked, ignoring his question.

"Sherlock!"

"I will find your underground terror cell, Mycroft." He assured him, halfheartedly. "Just put me back in London. I need to get to know the place again, breathe it in – feel every quiver of its beating heart."

"One of our men _died_ getting this information. All the chatter, all the traffic, concurs there's going to be a terror strike on London – a big one." 'Anthea' told him.

" And what about John Watson?"

"John?" Mycroft asked.

"Mmm. Have you seen him?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh, yes. We meet every Friday for fish and chips." He answered, sarcastically, as 'Anthea' handed Sherlock a folder. "I've kept a weather eye on him, of course. You haven't been in touch at all, to prepare him?"

"No." Sherlock answered. "Well, we'll have to get rid of that." he murmured to himself.

"'We'?"

" He looks ancient. I can't be seen to be wandering around with an old man." he said, referring to John's mustache. " I think I'll surprise John. He'll be delighted!" he said, handing the file back to 'Anthea', and buttoning his jacket.

"You think so?"

"Hmm. I'll pop into Baker Street. Who knows – jump out of a cake." He suggested.

"Baker Street? He isn't there any more." Mycroft told him. Sherlock looked at him in surprise.

" Why _would_ he be? It's been two years. He's got on with his life."

"What life?" Sherlock asked. "I've been away. Where's he going to be tonight?"

"How would I know?"

"You always know."

"He has a dinner reservation in the Marylebone Road. Nice little spot. They have a few bottles of the 2000 Saint-Emilion ... though I prefer the 2001." Mycroft told him.

"I think maybe I'll just drop by."

"You know, it is just possible that you won't be welcome." he tried to tell him.

"No it isn't. What about Elizabeth. Will she be there, too?"

Mycroft looked down at his shoes, and was a bit thankful that 'Anthea' had left the room. "When I went to see her earlier this morning, Sherlock, she was not well….at all."

"How so." he asked, quietly. Mycroft watched as his brothers whole demeanor changed just at the mention of Elizabeth's poor state.

"I think it might be best if you see for yourself, just what your absence has done, then for me to attempt to explain it to you."

Sherlock never looked up from the floor, his brows furrowed.

"As far as I know, she won't be there. She'll still be at the flat."

Sherlock nodded. "Now, where is it?" He asked.

"Where is what?"

"You know what."

'Anthea' appeared in the doorway, holding out his coat, and Sherlock put it on, happily.

"Thank you," He popped the collar. "blud."

* * *

_Elizabeth POV_

My eyes had just fluttered shut, when I heard the door close, no doubt Mrs. Hudson coming home, early, so I shut my eyes again, and tried to take a nap, curled up in John's old chair.

I heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, and for a moment, I thought it was John, but he had dinner reservations, and was planning to propose….

...unless he had backed out, and had nowhere else to go. Which would really suck…

I was prepared to get up, and offer some sisterly advice as soon the the footsteps stopped at the door, but paused, mid sigh, when I saw Sherlock, instead of John, standing at the door, a small smile.

"Hi." was all I could say.

"Hello." He replied.

"Mycroft said he didn't know if you would be able to visit. He said you might have to leave before you got the time."  
"I'm not visiting."

I stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate, but he stayed silent.

"You're staying?" I asked. "You're coming back?"

He smiled, and nodded. I jumped from the chair, attempting to move towards him, but from where I had been sitting most of the day, and from where I hadn't really moved at all in the past year, my joints protested, and my legs, no longer being used to sudden, rapid movements, gave out, and I was tossed to the ground.

Sherlock ran forward, catching my by the arms, and helping me stand back up, carefully.

"Are you alright?" He asked. I laughed a little.

"Yeah. I'm fine."

He held me out at arm's length, staring at me, looking at me up and down, the up again.

"Elizabeth." He whispered, sadly. He hands slid down my arms, and took my hands in his, rubbing his thumb over my bony knuckles, inspecting each of my fingers. Then moving to my wrists, then my elbows, shoulders, and finally my collar bones. "You're so thin." He commented, whispering. "And you look like you haven't seen the sun in years."

I didn't say anything as he continued to look me over.

Finally, when he was done, he grabbed my shoulders, pulling me forward to his chest, and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, as mine trembled, and I began to cry into his shoulder.

"Promise me that whatever happens, you will _never ever _do this to yourself again." He said into my hair. I nodded.

"Promise."

We stayed like that for what seemed like ages, swaying, slightly, to music only we could hear, before he pulled away, holding my at arm's length again, smiling.

"Hungry?" He asked, wiping away a few tears from my cheeks.

"Starving." I said, as he took my coat from the hook, and wrapped it around my shoulders.

"Good. We have reservations...well, you do."  
"What do you mean?" I asked. He walked out of the flat, and I followed.

"John doesn't know I'm alive, does he?" he asked.

"No, why?"

"I"m going to surprise him." he announced as we walked outside, and he scanned the streets.

"That might not be such a great idea." I tried, but he ignored me.

"Ah, there's our ride." he smiled as a black car pulled up, and the back seat door opened, revealing Mycroft, smiling.

"Hurry." he sighed, turning his attention to his phone. Sherlock let me in first, so that I was squished between the brothers as we drove to the restaurant.

* * *

I felt incredibly underdressed as I was ushered to my table, and saw all of the other patrons wearing their finest dresses, and suites, meanwhile, I was only wearing jeans, and a plain shirt.

Luckily, I was seated near John, but far enough away neither he, nor Mary would see me, but I had a clear view of their table.

I was handed a menu, but I paid no attention to it. Instead, I looked around for Sherlock.

He finally made his way to John's table, and I almost blew my cover.

He had acquired a pair of glasses, and a bowtie, and had somehow drawn on a mustache, pointing to the menu in John's hands, and I couldn't hear exactly what was said, but I detected a fake french accent. It was very comical, and I received a few stares when a tiny giggle slipped out.

I looked away, reading a few items on the menu, before someone sat next to me.

"Mind if I take your champagne?" Sherlock asked. I almost didn't look up at him, but I just had to.

I took the glasses off, putting them on the table.

"You look ridiculous." I commented, laughing.

"John didn't recognize me."  
"He didn't even look at you, he ignored you." I reminded. "If you weren't in disguise, it would have been the same."

He only shrugged a shoulder. "I didn't know that he would ignore me before, did I? I was actually hoping he would recognize me."

I didn't say anything, only taking a sip of my drink. "Who's she?" He asked, nodding towards John's table, as Mary sat down in front of him.

"Oh, that's Mary, John's girlfriend."

"Another one of John's girlfriends."  
"Yup. I think you'll like Mary, though."

"Hmm." He hummed, then grabbed the bottle of wine from my table. "Mind if I borrow it for a second?" He asked. I shook my head, and he left, making his way over to John and Mary's table. I shook my head.

"Not at all."

* * *

**That's it!  
I hope you guys have a happy holiday tomorrow, and you get everything you wanted, and more! And, hopefully, it won't be like the day I had.**

**Story time (this is going to become a oneshot, it's already finished!)**

**December is supposed to be snowy and make you feel...well, happy...it's Christmas!**

**It's not rainy, and make you terrified.**

**We had tornado warnings out, but it had passed us, so we decided to go out and get another ham (the first didn't do so well)**

**Skys were kind of clearing up, didn't look at dangerous, but before we left, we got a warning, telling us it was best if we stayed off of the roads...of course, we didn't listen.**

**As we're driving, and mom and I are having a normal conversation, both of us in the middle of laughing, we hear my sister scream for a split second, and then hear a thud, a deer hitting the side of the van...hard!  
We kept going, looking for a place to stop, none of us talking.**

**When we finally stopped, my mom called the insurance company, and tried to open her door (which didn't budge, because of the dents in the van)**

**While she's talking, explaining what happened, I looked out of the window, and saw some dark clouds-didn't look too serious, I went back to my game.**

**I looked out of the window again as the rain got a little harder, and noticed the dark clouds now looked much more ominous, and there was a lot of lightning...a LOT of lightning.**

"**Um, mom." I warned.**

"**I know, Christa, it'll be fine." She kept saying, but I was freaking out.**

**The wind picked up, rocking out van, trees were bowing in the wind, there was hale, and the rain got so much worse, we couldn't see out of your windshield.**

**Finally mom got off of the phone, and we, slowly but surely, made our way to where my step dad works to get mom's door fixed, and make sure the van was okay to drive home.**

**We got our shopping done, and a trip that would have taken maybe 30 minutes, took 3 hours….**

**Honestly, I don't think I could have asked for a better Christmas Eve Eve (as I called it :) )...(note the sarcasm)**

**Anyway, I hope your day is better than that, and you get everything you wanted, and you're so happy you honestly can't contain it, and that you do a good deed, because it's Christmas time! I don't think you would need anymore motivation than that!**

**Bye!**


	39. Chapter 39

I felt incredibly underdressed as I was ushered to my table, and saw all of the other patrons wearing their finest dresses, and suites, meanwhile, I was only wearing jeans, and a plain shirt.

Luckily, I was seated near John, but far enough away neither he, nor Mary would see me, but I had a clear view of their table.

I was handed a menu, but I paid no attention to it. Instead, I looked around for Sherlock.

He finally made his way to John's table, and I almost blew my cover.

He had acquired a pair of glasses, and a bowtie, and had somehow drawn on a mustache, pointing to the menu in John's hands, and I couldn't hear exactly what was said, but I detected a fake french accent. It was very comical, and I received a few stares when a tiny giggle slipped out.

I looked away, reading a few items on the menu, before someone sat next to me.

"Mind if I take your champagne?" Sherlock asked. I almost didn't look up at him, but I just had to.

I took the glasses off, putting them on the table.

"You look ridiculous." I commented, laughing.

"John didn't recognize me."  
"He didn't even look at you, he ignored you." I reminded. "If you weren't in disguise, it would have been the same."

He only shrugged a shoulder. "I didn't know that he would ignore me before, did I? I was actually hoping he would recognize me."

I didn't say anything, only taking a sip of my drink. "Who's she?" He asked, nodding towards John's table, as Mary sat down in front of him.

"Oh, that's Mary, John's girlfriend."

"Another one of John's girlfriends."  
"Yup. I think you'll like Mary, though."

"Hmm." He hummed, then grabbed the bottle of wine from my table. "Mind if I borrow it for a second?" He asked. I shook my head, and he left, making his way over to John and Mary's table. I shook my head.

I waited a good five minutes, before looking towards John's table, just in time to watch as he tackled Sherlock to the ground, waiters and other guests attempting to pry him off.

I jumped from my seat, pushing past the mob of people as waiters pulled John off of Sherlock, holding him back, while I helped Sherlock off of the ground, grabbing both by the ears, and dragging them out.

-—

"I calculated that there were thirteen possibilities once I invited moriarty onto the roof." Sherlock started. We relocated to a much smaller cafe, Mary and I not wanting to take the boys home to work everything out in case John decided to try to kill Sherlock again. We wouldn't be able to take care of it by ourselves.

John sat beside Mary, arms crossed, listening to Sherlock explain, while I held my head up with my hands, exhausted. I wasn't used to this. Not like I used to be.

"I wanted to avoid dying if at all possible. The first scenario involved hurling myself into a parked hospital van filled with wash bags. Impossible. The angel was too step. Secondly, a system of Japanese wrestling…"

"You know, for a genius you can be remarkable thick." John interrupted. "I don't care how you faked it, Sherlock. I want to know why."

"Why?" Sherlock asked. "Because Moriarty had to be stopped." He paused. "Oh, 'Why' as in…" he pointed at john, and John nodded. "I see. Yes. 'Why'. That's a little more difficult to explain."

"I've got all night." John said darkly. Sherlock cleared his throat, and looked down.

"Actually, um, that was mostly Mycroft's idea."

"Oh, so it's your brother's plan?"

"Oh, he would have needed a confidant…" Mary started, but when John glared at her, she stopped. "Sorry." She apologized. Sherlock, though, nodded at her in agreement.

"But he was the only one? the only one that knew?"

"Couple of others." Sherlock sighed, his eyes closed, briefly.

"It was a very elaborate plan- it had to be. The next of the thirteen possibilities…"

"Who else." John whispered, interpreting Sherlock again. "Who else knew." Sherlock didn't answer. "Who?"  
"Molly."

"Molly?" John asked, angrily.

"John." Mary said, softly.

"Molly Hooper-and some of my homeless network, and that's all."

John turned to look at me. "Did you know?"

"I knew after the funeral. He told me." I whispered.

"What, he just showed up?" John asked, and I nodded. "He told you, went to see you, visited you these past few years, but I don't get a word from him for two years."  
"I didn't either." I argued. "He only visited once, then he left.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because, for the longest time, I wasn't sure if I had dreamt it or not."

"And how did you find out you didn't?"  
"Mycroft."

John sighed. "Okay. So the only people who knew: my sister, Molly, and a hundred tramps." John recapped, sourly.

"No!" Sherlock chuckled."Twenty-five at most."

And John jumped over the table, tackling Sherlock to the ground again.

* * *

I handed Sherlock some napkins, and he put them up to his lip where it had been cut. He pulled the napkins away, and winced, looking at the blood, before putting it back.

We were thrown out of the cafe, for obvious reasons, and Mary showed us to a kebab shop down the street, where we stood, John and Mary leaning against the counter, and I moved to stand beside Mary...just in case.

"Seriously, it's not a joke?" Sherlock gestured to his own upper lip. "You're really keeping this?"

"Yeah." He cleared his throat.

"Sure?"  
"Mary likes it."

"Mmmm, no she doesn't."

"She does." John argued.

"She doesn't."

John glanced at Mary, who tried to apologize, but began, instead to sputter.

"Oh! Brilliant."

"I'm sorry. Oh, i'm sorry, I didn't know how to tell you."

"No, no, this is charming!" He pointed at Sherlock. "I've really missed this.

He stopped, looking down, before stepping towards Sherlock. "One word, sherlock. That is all i would have needed. One word to let me know that you were alive."

"I've nearly been in contact so many times, but…" Sherlock trailed off quietly. John only laughed, not believing him. "...I worried that you might say something indiscreet."

"What?"

"Well, you know, let the cat out of the bag.

"Oh, so this is my fault."

Mary began to laugh, and I smiled as well. Oh, God!"

"why am I the only one who thinks this is wrong. The only one reacting like a human being?!"

"Over-reacting." Sherlock corrected.

"Over-reacting?!"

"John!" Mary laughed, and I giggled.

"'Overreacting'! So you fake your own death…"

"Shh." Sherlock tried to shush him.

"...and you waltz in here large as bloody life…"

"Shh!"

John got quiet, but got louder. "...but I'm not supposed to have a problem with that, no, because Sherlock Holmes thinks it's a perfectly _okay thing to do_!"

"Shut up, John, I don't want everyone knowing I'm still alive!" Sherlock shouted.

"Oh, so It's still a secret, is it?" John shouted back.

"Yes! It's still a secret." Sherlock responded loudly.

"Wo'nt be for long if the keep this up." Mary whispered to me, and I smiled. "They're so childish. Were they always like this?"

I nodded. "Most days."

Sherlock looked around. "Promise you won't tell anyone." Sherlock asked, casually.

"Swear to God!" John promised, sarcastically, still shouting.

Sherlock moved closer, speaking softer. "London is in danger, John. There's an imminent terrorist attack and I need your help."

John stared at him, surprised. "My help?"

"You have missed this. The thrill of the chase, the blood pumping through your veins, the three of us against the rest of the world…"

He never got to finish, John grabbing the lapels of his jacket, and rearing his head back…

I began to walk to the door, already knowing we were going to be thrown out.

* * *

"I don't understand." He said, pinching the bridge of his nose. John had gone to hail a cab for him and Mary, John offering to let me stay there tonight (he thought I was mad at Sherlock like he was...or that I should be, at least). Mary understood that I wasn't, though she still said she wouldn't mind a bit if I wanted to. I had done so before, at times, when John thought I couldn't take care of myself, or wasn't doing well on my own, and would force me to stay a few nights. Mary would make dinner, and John would take me to see his therapist the next morning…

It helped, the therapy and being with my brother and his girlfriend, who was so sweet and calm about it all, but it wasn't the highlight of my life...in fact, I try to forget about most of it.

I said I was 't that what you're supposed to do?" Sherlock asked, bringing napkins to his bleeding nose.

"Gosh, you don't know anything about human nature, so you?" Mary asked. Sherlock lowered his head.

"Mmm, nature, no. Human? No."

"I'll talk him 'round." Mary smiled.

"You will?" Sherlock asked, looking at her curiously.

"Oh yeah."

"Mary!" John called down the road. Mary turned to look at him, then spun back around to me.

"Are you staying with us, or going home?"She asked. She glanced at Sherlock, then raised a brow, suggestively. Luckily Sherlock didn't catch that. I glared at her.

"Going home."

She laughed. "Alright. See you sometime tomorrow?" She wondered.

"Yeah, just text me when you get off of work."

"Alright. Bye." She waved, and walked away.

I hailed a cab for Sherlock and myself, and attempted to tell the cabbie our address ,but he stopped me.

"Bart's." He said.

"Why are we going to Bart's?" I asked.

"Molly doesn't know yet." He said, taking out his phone. Then he looked at me, his brows furrowed. "Do you still talk to Molly?" He asked.

"Yeah, we're still best friends. She knew I knew."

He nodded. "She threatened me. Told her if I didn't tell you she would tell you herself, and then would kill me. For real, this time.."

I smiled.

"I don't think Molly would hurt a fly. She's too sweet." I admitted.

"Mmm it's the sweet ones that you have to watch out for."

I waited as he went to tell Molly he was back, and when he asked to go to a car park and tell Lestrade, I stayed behind as well, waiting until he got back.

When we were finally on our way home, I was relived. I wasn't used to being out this long, or for very long at all. I had gotten used to being cooped up in the flat all day, not really moving much, only if I had to.

we walked through the door, but stopped before opening the second one. I heard the door of 221A open, slowly, and through the frosted window, saw Mrs. Hudson's shadow, and a pan in her hand.

"You're going to give her a heart attack." I whispered, but he only smiled, shaking his head, and telling me to be quiet.I stayed back as far as I could as Sherlock opened the door, and she screamed.

I walked up stairs, leaving Sherlock on his own to explain everything.

* * *

Even after a few days, everytime Mrs. Hudson came up stairs, she just couldn't believe it. I would watch as she looked around, nervously, and once her eyes landed on Sherlock, she grinned, and commented about him being back, and how amazing it was. I always agreed with her, and I found myself doing the same. Every morning I would roll over, hesitantly, as if it were all a dream, and he wouldn't really be there, and I would get my hopes up. but he would be, sleeping peacefully, and I always smiled just as Mrs. Hudson did. The first morning I cried, almost waking him up.

He slept on his side, though, which wasn't odd, but afternoon, as I reached to touch the back of his shoulder, he winced, and moved to that my hand rested on the top of it.

I ignored it for a while, until i caught a glance at his back, and the bruises and scars he was covered in.

"_Sherlock." _I whispered, horrified. He told me it was nothing. "_Nothing?"_ I asked. "_What happened?"_

He explained everything that had happened the last two years. How he dismantled the network, and was finally caught in Serbia. How he was beaten, and how he got himself out, and how Mycroft watched.

I was going to have a word with him next time he came around.

Which, in fact, wasn't too long. a few days after Sherlock came back, Mycroft showed up one morning, wanting to talk about the imminent terrorist attack.

Sherlock ad been working on it the past few days, papers and photographs had been taped to the wall, along with maps.

"London. It's like a great cesspool into which all kinds of criminals, agents, and drifters are irresistibly drained. Sometimes it's not a question of 'who'; it's a question of 'who knows'." He pointed to a photo of a man. "If this man cancels his papers, I need to know." he pointed to another. "If this woman leaves London without putting her dog into kennels, I need to know. There are certain people-they are markers. If they start to move, I'll know something's up-like rats deserting a sinking ship." He explained, and went to sit back in his chair, as I stared at the papers on the wall, trying to make sense of it all. I don't know how he kept up with all of this.

"All very interesting, Sherlock, but the terror alert has been raised to critical." Mycroft said.

"Boring. Your move." Sherlock told him. I guessed they were playing a game...chess, more than likely.

"We have solid information. An attack is coming."

"'Solid information'. A secret terrorist organisation's planning an attack-that's what secret terrorist organizations do, isn't it, it's their version of golf." Sherlock said, and I chuckled, picking up mine and Sherlock's empty coffee mugs, taking them to the kitchen.

"An agent gave his life to tell us that."

"Oh, well, maybe he shouldn't have." Sherlock said. "He was obviously just trying to show off."

"None of these markers of yours are behaving in any way suspiciously?"Mycroft asked, changing the subject. "Your move."

"No, Mycroft, but you have to trust me. I'll find the answer. It'll be in an odd phrase on an online blog, or an unexpected trip to the countryside, or a misplaced Lonely Hearts ad. Your move."

"I've given the Prime Minister my personal assurance you're on the case."

"I am on the case. We're both on the case, look at us right now." I heard a loud buzz, and I finished washing the mugs, moving to find not a chess board between them, but instead, 'Operation'. "Bugger!" Mycroft exclaimed.

"Oopsie! can't handle a broken heart. how very telling." Sherlock said, looking smug, and crossing his legs, leaning back in his chair.

"Don't be smart."

"Oh, that takes me back.'Don't be smart, Sherlock, I'm the smart one.'"Sherlock mocked.

"I am the smart one."

"I used to think I was an idiot." Sherlock said, turning to me. I smiled.

"Both of us thought he was an idiot. We had nothing else to go on, until we met other children.

"Oh, yes, that was a mistake."

"Ghastly. What were they thinking of?"

"Probably making friends your age?" I wondered.

"Oh, yes, _friends._"

"You know, I think you two are the only people who can say 'friends' as if it were a curse word." I noticed.

"Of course, Sherlock, you go in for that sort of thing now."

"And you don't. Ever?" Sherlock asked him.

"If you seem slow to me, Sherlock, can you imagine what real people are like. I'm living in a world of goldfish." He turned to me and smiled. "No offense, Elizabeth."

"None taken."I mumbled.

"Yes, but I've been away for two years." Sherlock said..

"So?"  
"Oh., I don't know. I thought perhaps you might have found yourself a...goldfish." He shrugged.

"Change the subject. Now!" He stood and walked to the fireplace.

"Rest assure, Mycroft-whatever this underground network of yours is up to, the secret will reside in something seemingly insignificant or bizarre."

"Ooh-hoo!" Mrs. Hudson sung, walking in with a tray of tea.

"Speaking of which." Mycroft mumbled. Sherlock smiled.

"I can't believe it. I just can't believe it! Him-sitting in his chair again. Isn't it wonderful, Mr. Holmes?" She turned to Mycroft, setting the tray down on the dining table.

"I can barely contain myself." he answered, sarcastically.

"oh, he really can, you know." Sherlock said.

"He's secretly pleased to see you underneath all that…" She made a sour face.

"Sorry, which of us?" Mycroft wondered.

"Both of you." She answered, making her way to the kitchen.

"Let's play something different."

"Why are you playing games?" I asked.

"Well, London's terror alert has been raised to critical." He stood up. "I'm just passing the time." he turned to Mycroft. "Let's do deductions." He suggested.

He picked up a bobble hat with ear flaps. "Client left this while I was out. What d'you reckon?" He threw it at Mycroft, who caught it, effortlessly.

"I'm busy."

"Oh, go on. It's been an age."Mycroft sniffed the hat, and then looked back at Sherlock.

"I always win."

"Which is why you can't resist."

"I find nothing irresistible in the hat of a well-traveled anxious sentimental unfit creature of habit with appalling halitosis…" he stopped and Sherlock's smile widened. "Damn." He threw it back at Sherlock.

"Isolated too, don't you think?"

"Why would he be isolated."

"'He'?" Sherlock asked.

"Obviously."

"Why? Size of the hat?" Sherlock wondered.

"Don't be silly. Some women have large heads too. No, he's recently had his hair cut. You can see the little hairs adhering to the perspirations stains on the inside."

"Some women have short hair, too." Sherlock said quietly. I made my way to the couch, making myself comfortable, watching their game.

"Balance of probability."

"not that you've ever spoken to a woman with short hair, or, you know, a woman."

"Stains show he's out of condition, and he's sentimental because the hat has been repaired three, four…"

Sherlock threw the hat back. "Five times. Very neatly. The cost of the repairs exceeds the cost of the hat, so he's mawkishly attached to it, but it's more than that. one, perhaps two patches would indicate sentimentality, but five? Five's excessive behavior. Obsessive compulsive."

"Hardly." Mycroft scoffed. "Your client left it behind. What sort of obsessive compulsive would do that?" he threw it back to Sherlock. "The earlier patches are sunbleached, so he's worn it abroad-in Peru."

"Peru?" Sherlock asked.

"This is a chullo-the classic headgear of the Andes. It's made of alpaca."

"No." Sherlock said, smirking.

"No?"

"Icelandic sheep wool. Similar, but very distinctive, if you know what you're looking for. I've written a blog on the varying tensile strengths of different natural fibers."

"I'm sure there's a crying need for that." Mrs. Hudson said, coming back into the room with a teapot.

"You said he was anxious.' Sherlock reminded Mycroft.

"The bobble on the left has been badly chewed, which shows he's a man of a nervous disposition but…"

"...but also a creature of habit because he hasn't chewed the bobble on the right."

"Precisely."

Sherlock lifted the hat, sniffing it.

"Brief sniff of the offending boggle tells us everything we need to know about that stae of his breath." He turned away. "Brilliant." He said, sarcastically.

"Elementary."

"But you've missed his isolation." Sherlock pointed out.

"I don't see it."

"Plain as day."

"Where."

"There for all to see."

"Tell me."

"Plain as the nose on your…"

"Tell me." Mycroft demanded.

"Well, anyone who wears a hat as stupid as this isn't in that habit of hanging around other people, is he?"

"I own three of those." I spoke up from the couch.

"And you have Sarah, John, Molly, and a few strays."

"Mary, too. And Mycroft."  
They both raised an eyebrow. I smiled. "Kind of."

"You're wrong." Mycroft said, getting back to the subject. "Maybe he's like Elizabeth. He just doesn't mind being different. He doesn't necessarily have to be isolated."

"Thank you."

"Exactly." Sherlock said.

"I'm sorry?" Mycroft asked, obviously confused.

"He's different, so what? Why would he mind. You're quite right." He put the hat on his head. "Why would anyone mind?"

Mycroft paused. "I'm not lonely, Sherlock."

Sherlock took a step closer.

"How would you know?" He took the hat off, and turned away. Mrs. Hudson came into the doorway, from the kitchen, smiling, and I smiled a little as well.

"Yes. Back to work if you don't mind. Good morning." He walked out, and Sherlock winked at Mrs. Hudson and I, Mrs. Hudson giggling, happily.

"Right." Sherlock said, facing the wall behind me. "Back to work."

I went to help Mrs. Hudson wash the rest of the dishes while Sherlock worked.

"How long has it been since Sherlock and John talked? I know he hasn't been around." Mrs. Hudson whispered.

"Sherlock tried talking to him about three weeks ago. Don't know what happened, but I knew neither one of them are too happy about it."

"I'll go talk to him." She winked, and walked to the living room.

"Sherlock, talk to John." she said I laughed a little at her bluntness.

"I tried talking to him. he made his position quite clear."

"Well, what did he say?" She asked.

I didn't hear what was said, but i could figure it out, and it was something...not very nice...at all.

"Oh, dear." she said, coming back in the kitchen, looking...well, a bit horrified.

"Give John about a month. He'll cool down, and maybe they'll be able to talk like adults. Can't say I really blame him, though." I shrugged a shoulder. Mrs. Hudson nodded, sadly.

"I thought maybe after a couple of weeks he would be over it, at least a little." she admitted. I shook my head.

She went back down to her flat a few minutes later, after helping me straighten things up a bit in the kitchen, and as I walked into the living room, Sherlock spun around, looking away from the wall, to me.

"Is Molly doing anything today?" He asked. I shook my head.

"No, I think she has a day off. Why?"  
"Do you think maybe she would want to come with us today? A few people have called, no doubt some will be coming in."

I shrugged. "I don't think she would mind."

"I'll call and ask her, then." He mumbled, taking his phone from his dressing gown pocket, and dialing her number.

"Not used to it being just us?" I teased once he had gotten off the phone. He didn't answer, ignoring me.

Molly came around a few hours later.

"You wanted to see me." She said, stopping in the doorway.

"Yes. Molly? Would you…" He turned to me, as if he wasn't sure if he should ask, or if she even wanted to do this. "Would you like to solve crimes?"

She agreed, happily, and I pulled a chair up for her, excitedly. Molly and I hadn't spent any time together in the past few weeks, or talked at all like we used to, so it was exciting to be able to spend the day with her.

* * *

"...Monkey glands!" Sherlock finished. Molly and I smiled as Sherlock turned back to the clients, a an and wife, the wife sitting in what was John's chair, while the man stood beside her. "But enough about Professor Presbury. Tell us more about your case, Mr. Harcourt."

"Are you sure about this?" Molly asked us as Sherlock passed by.

"Absolutely." Sherlock answered.

"Should I be making notes?"

"If it makes you feel better."

"It's just that that's what John says he does, so if I'm being John…"

"You're not being John, you're being yourself."

Molly smiled.

"Well, absolutely no one should have been able to empty that bank account other than myself and Helen." Mr. Harcourt explained.

"Why didn't you assume it was your wife?"

"Because I've always had total faith in her." He answered.

"No-it's because you emptied it." Sherlock walked towards him. "Weight loss, hair dye, botox; affair." he handed a business card to Mrs. Harcourt. "Lawyer. Next!"

* * *

"And your pen pal's emails just stopped, did they?" Sherlock asked, holding the crying woman's hands, patting them sympathetically. The woman nodded. Molly kept writing, while I sat back watching them. "And you really thought he was the one, didn't you? the love of your life." She took her glasses off, crying harder, and Sherlock turned to look at us for a moment, before getting up, walking towards Molly and I.

"Stepfather posing as online boyfriend." He said quietly

"What?" Molly asked, shocked, and even I was a little disgusted.

"Breaks it off, breaks her heart. She swears off relationships, stays at home. He still has her wage coming in." he spun around to her stepfather. "Mr. Windibank, you have been a complete and utter…"

Oh boy…

* * *

"So what do you guys do in between clients?" Molly asked. We had client after client all morning, and we were finally getting a break. Sherlock had taken the opportunity to take a quick shower, leaving Molly and I alone in the living room.

I shrugged. "Anything, really. Mostly, we just sit around a wait. Sometimes we go out, but not a lot."

"Must get boring." She commented. I shrugged again.

"Sometimes."

"Are you alright?" Molly asked. I nodded.

"Yeah, why?"

She shook her head. "You just seem a bit...off today, is in a bad way, it's just a bit not like...you. Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I feel fine, anyway. Stomach was a bit sick this morning, but I feel better." I shrugged it off.

"Sure?" She asked. I laughed a little.

"Yeah."  
"So what about John? Are him and Sherlock still mad at eachother?"

I nodded. "Well, Sherlock's not mad, but John is furious."

"How long has it been since they've talked?"

"Three or four weeks."

"And he's still that upset?"

"Yup. That sounds like my brother. Once when we were kids, I accidently stepped on one of his action figures. He didn't talk to me for a whole month." She laughed. "Harry is worse."

"How did you end up like you are?" She giggled.

"I'm more like my mom." I admitted. She nodded.

"My dad, when he was alive, I don't think I had ever seen him angry. He was always so cheerful, even when he was dying."

"Mine was hot-headed and could hold a grudge better than anyone I ever 's about all I remember about him, though. He died when I was young."

"That must have been rough on your mom-taking care of three kids by yourself." She shook her head.

"Well, my Nan came and helped a lot."

She nodded. "Have you thought about kids?"

If Sherlock had heard that, he would have slipped and died in the shower….I could have sworn I heard someone slip…

"Well, we haven't really talked about it before." I shrugged, chewing the inside of my cheek.

"Would you want kids?" She smiled.

"I don't know. I mean, it might be nice, I guess, I don't know." She laughed. "Don't let Sherlock hear you say anything about kids, though." I warned.

"I won't. But seriously, I think you would make a great mother."

"Thanks." I answered hesitantly. Molly, though, kept an eye on me, even when I had looked down at my phone checking emails.

"Ready to go?" Sherlock asked, already dressed, and pulling on his coat. Molly and I jumped up, grabbing our coats as well, following him.

"Oh, Elizabeth, could you grab that hat?" He asked, pointed to the one on the desk. I grabbed it, handing it to him and he smiled. "Thank you." He said, going to turn, but instead, turned back around.

"Go." I said, pushing his back so he would hurry down the stairs. Molly laughed.

* * *

"This one's got us all baffled," Greg said, tearing the police tap from the door, and letting us in.

"Mmm. I don't doubt it." Sherlock hummed.

We walked down some stairs leading to the basement, where a hole had been knocked in the wall. Lestrade switched on some mobile lighting as we walked through the hole. A wooden table was on the far left, behind the desk, a skeleton, dressed in victorian clothes, and what looked like a writing set on the table. Sherlock walked towards it almost immediately, but Molly hung back notebook in hand.

"What is it?" Molly asked as Sherlock straightened up, shutting his magnifier. "You're onto something, aren't you?" Sherlock held up his phone.

"Mm, maybe." He said, then whispered.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing." he waved it off, walking to the other side of the table.

"This going to be the new arrangement, is it?" Lestrade asked me.

"No. Just giving it a go."

"Right." He nodded. "John?"

"They're not really speaking." I explained. He nodded again as dust began to fall from the ceiling and there was a loud rumbling.

"Trains?" Molly asked.

"Trains." Sherlock repeated.

Molly moved closer to the body, while Sherlock squatted beside of it. I stayed back, almost as far away as I smell of the basement, mixed with the sight of the skeleton was beginning to make my stomach ill.

"You okay?" Lestrade asked. "Why are hanging back here? Usually your up there with 'em."

I shrugged. "I'm fine."

"Alright." Lestrade patted my shoulder.

"Male, forty to fifty." Molly said, looking at the bones in his neck, before looking at Sherlock. "Oh, sorry, did you want to be…" She trailed off.

"Er, no, please. be my guest." He said, before saying something through his teeth, causing Molly to glance at Lestrade and then to me, nervously, before continuing to investigate the skeleton.

"Doesn't make sense." She mumbled.

"What doesn't?" Lestrade asked.

"The skeleton-it's...it can't be any more than…"  
"Six months old." Her and Sherlock said, simultaneously. Sherlock, finding a secret compartment in the side of the table, popped it open, sliding a book out of it, showing Moll the cover. I took a few steps closer to look at it, and he spun it around to me.

"'How I Did It' by Jack the Ripper." I read. Lestrade smiled.

"Wow!" Moll exclaimed. Sherlock hummed, and Sherlock dropped the book on the table.

"It's impossible." Molly shook her head.

"Welcome to my world." Sherlock smiled. "I won't insult your intelligence by explaining it to you."

"No please, " Lestrade said. "Insult away!"

"The-the-the corpse is six months old; it's dressed in a shoddy victorian outfit from a museum. It's been displayed in a case facing south-east judging from the fading of the was sold off in a fire damage sale…" He showed us his phone, briefly. "...a week ago."

"So the whole thing was a fake?" Lestrade asked.

"Yes."

"Looked so promising."

"Facile." Sherlock said, already walking back up the stairs.

"Why would someone go through all that trouble?" Molly wondered.

"Why indeed, John."

* * *

**Happy late New year.**

**but guys, can we talk about the special?**

***Spoilers ahead BTW***

**What….the….frick.**

**That was amazing! I want to say so many things about it, but I don't even know what to say!**

**Just...wow!**

**And Molly cross dressing as a man had to be one of my favorite parts.**

**Someone explained it, and I can't remember who, on tumblr, and explained how the whole special was about women and their struggles, and how it was, in a way, Sherlock realizing how poorly he treated women.**

**A link to the post here: [[the link]]**

**It is, honestly, one of my favorite posts that I found about the special, to be honest.**

**Anyway, reviews!**

_**Im so glad you got thid out today! I love the reality of her actions! Although, i wish she has been a little more upset about sherlock.**_

_**~ Sad rad fish**_

**That you, dear.**

**You can thank LondonLovesTea for the reality of her actions. When I sent it to her to look over, that was one of the suggestions that she had, and without her, it wouldn't have been the way it was.**

**I'm sorry you felt that way. I guess I was too worried about making it too sad, or making her too upset, and instead made her...not upset enough to some. I'm so sorry! In the future, if I ever some back to refine this story, that will be one of the things I will be sure to alter slightly.**

**Thank you so much for your review, and I hope you had a Happy New Year (if you celebrate!)**

_**Awesome!**_

_**~Noxy the Proxy**_

**Yes you are! Haha!**

**Thank you!**

**That's it….**

**See you guys later, and I hope you all had a great New Year, and an amazing Christmas! Most of mine was Sherlock related, or art related. I'm going to learn how to draw….eep.**

**but I got two Sherlock Pop Vinyls, a deerstalker a 221B key necklace, a Sherlock coloring book, a heat reveal mug (when the mug is cold/room temp. it just says "I'm _ Locked. but when it's hot, it says "I'm SHER Locked" with a nice little background...I'm excited about it) 221B sticker for my door, and season two (which means I know have all of the seasons on DVD...i feel a marathon coming on!)**

**Just in case anyone is interested….**

**Anyway, I'll stop rambling…**

**~Eruaphadriel**


	40. Chapter 40

_**Ba dum.**_

_**I don't know why I always want to start my A/Ns with onomonopias…. **_

_**I actually sometimes open google docs with sound effects.**_

_**Makes life a little more fun.**_

_**Anyway, just thought I would let you guys know, I enjoyed the comments, they made me chuckle, aaaaand….that's it!**_

_**Bye...for now!**_

_**Fun Fact of the day!**_

_**January 6th (the day the 40TH Chapter was posted! Yikes!) Is believed to be Sherlock Holmes' birthday! Got that notification this morning, and it made me**_ _**kind of **__**excited!**_

"_Mind the gap. Mind the gap."_

Molly giggled as Sherlock rang the doorbell, yet instead of a buzz, or a ring, it was the London Underground announcement.

"I thought we weren't supposed to be here until four o'clock." I whispered. Sherlock shrugged. it was two.

"A bit ahead of schedule. We were out anyway."

"Mary and I were going to meet for lunch at two-thirty."

"We'll be done by then. Promise."

The door swung open, and Sherlock held out the hat he and his brother had tossed around earlier this morning.

"Oh. Thank you for hanging onto it." The man said, taking his hat back.

"No problem."

He lead us inside, and to a room, filled with trains, a model train going around the room, while the rest was train memorabilia.

"So, what's this about Mr. Shilcott?" Sherlock asked.

"My girlfriend's a big fan of yours." He said, sitting at his computer.

"Girlfriend." Sherlock chuckled, sarcastically, turning to Molly and I, expecting us to be laughing too. Instead, we glared at him, and his smile fell.

"Sorry, do go on."

"I like trains."  
"Yes."

"I work on the Tube, one the District Line, and part of my job is to wipe the security footage after it's been cleared. I was just whizzing through, and ,er, I found something a bit bizarre." He turned to his computer, and Sherlock looked at Molly and I.

"Ooh!" he mouthed, and Molly smiled, and I held back a laugh, while Mr. Shilcott pulled up the footage.

The train in the footage wasn't moving, it's doors opened, and only one man boarded, carrying a briefcase.

"Now, this was a week ago. The last train on the Friday night, Westminster station, and this man gets into the last car."

"'Car'?" Molly asked.

"They're cars, not carriages. it's a legacy of the early American involvement in the Tube system.."  
"He said he liked trains." Sherlock mumbled to Molly.

"Hmm." She hummed.

"And the next stop...St. James's Park Station…and…"  
The footage shows the car doors, opening, but no one got out.

"I thought you'd like it." He replayed it.

"He gets into the last car at Westminster, the only passenger, and the cat is empty at St. James's Park station. Explain that, Mr. Holmes."

"Couldn't he have jumped off?" I wondered. Sherlock shook his head, while Mr. Shilcott explained.

"There's a safety mechanism that prevents the doors from opening in tranzit. But there's something else. The driver of that train hasn't been to work since. According to his flatmate, he's on holiday. Came into some money."

"Bought off?" Sherlock guessed, looking to me.

"More than likely. He had to have had something to do with it." I shrugged a shoulder.

"So if the driver was in on it, then the passenger did get off."

"There's nowhere he could go." Mr. Shilcott said. "It's a straight run on the District Line between the two stations. There's no side tunnels-nothing no any map. Nothing. the train never stops, and the man vanishes. Good, innit?"

I raised my eyebrows and nodded, earning a wide grin from Mr. Shilcott, and then we both looked to Sherlock, who had his eyes closed.

"I know that face." he murmured, then left. Mr. Shilcott's smile fell, and he pointed at Sherlock's back.

"Is-is he alright? What does that mean?" He asked, worried.

I nodded. "I think he's interested, but I'll be sure to remind him to get back with you on it." I smiled. He mimicked me.

"Well, he should have my number." He said, handing me a copy of the tape.

"Thank you." I looked at Molly. "Ready to go." She nodded. "Have a lovely day. It wa nice to meet you." I waved at him, before leaving, Molly trailing behind.

We met Sherlock on the stairs, going up a couple, before his eyes shot open.

"The journey between those stations usually takes five minutes. that journey took ten- ten minutes to get from Westminster to St James's Park. So I'm going to need maps-lots of maps, all the maps."

"Right." I sighed. That would be easier said than done.

Sherlock walked down the stairs, walking straight passed Molly and I, going down the next set of stairs.

"Fancy some chips?" He asked.

"What?"  
"I know a fantastic fish shop just off the Marylebone Road. The owner always gives me extra portions." He explained.

"Did you get him off a murder charge?" Molly asked, following him down.

"No-I helped him put up some shelves." she giggled, and I sighed.

"Hey, do you still have his number?" I asked Sherlock.

"Umm. I don't think so." he answered.

"Alright. I'll go and get it." I turned around, trekking back up the stairs, making my way to, what I hoped was, Mr. Shilcott's flat. I sighed in relief as I rang the doorbell, and I heard '_Mind the gap'_.

"Hi." I greeted as he opened the door. "I was talking to Sherlock, he said he didn't have your number anymore. You don't mind writing it down again, do you?" I asked. He shook his head.

"No, no, not at all." He retreated back into the flat. "Please, come on in."  
I took a few steps forward, into the flat, and waited. He came back a few seconds later, a torn piece of paper in his hands. "Here you are."  
"Thank you very much."

When I came back down the stairs, it was just Molly.

"Where'd he go?" I asked her. She was adjusting her bag on her shoulder.

"Oh, he went out. Said you had lunch with Mary, so he went on home." She explained. I nodded.

"Do you have any plans?" I wondered.

"I was going to meet with Tom." she said, apologetically. "Sorry." I smiled.

"Oh, that's fine." I laughed. We walked out together. "When are you going to bring him around? I want to meet him. You're engaged, and we still haven't met him."

She giggled. "I don't know."

I hailed a cab. "Need a ride?" I asked. She smiled, and followed me into the cab.

* * *

Mary stared at me, in our both.. I furrowed my eyebrows, putting my fork back on the plate.

"What?" I asked.

"I should be asking you the same question. What's wrong?" I shook my head.

"Yeah, I noticed something was wrong today, too. What's the matter?" Greg asked.

Greg, Mary, and I had all become good friends ever since Sherlock's 'death'. Greg had made sure, like John, that I was alright, coming by the flat every once in awhile, keeping me comfortable, make sure I ate, and that I was getting enough sleep. I rarely talked about Sherlock then, but if I did, Greg was one of the first people I went to. He never really showed that he was upset, and was willing to talk about it, yet I knew he missed him, just as much as John and I did, and, sometimes, it ended in me listening to Greg. Greg, John, and I would meet up at pubs, and talk, catch up, and when Mary came along, she joined us, she and Greg becoming fast friends, and Greg, Mary, and I tried to make plans as often as possible.

I shook my head. "Nothing."

Mary tilted her head, giving me a knowing smile, one brow raised.

"Elizabeth?"  
"I guess…" I racked my brain, trying to come up with a reason. "With Sherlock being back, things have been kind of….different, and I'm just not used to it yet." I shrugged. "Plus, I'm stressing about about John being mad at Sherlock, and wondering if they're ever going ot make up.

"Oh." She nodded, seeming to believe me. I sighed. I was never the best liar, but they both seemed to have bought it.

"What else?" Greg asked.

Or not…

"Nothing." Mary sighed.

"Elizabeth, I've known you a little over two years now, Greg's known you for, what….four? Five?"  
"Pretty close." He shrugged.

"Either way, we both know when you're lying." I chuckled, nervously, then glanced at Greg. He seemed to get the message.

"Greg's got a wife, Elizabeth, I'm sure he wouldn't mind."  
"_Had _a wife." He corrected.

"You got a divorce?" I asked.

"Don't change the subject, missy."  
Darn...

"I'll turn my ears off. I was just about to ge ahead and pay my bill anyway. Be back in a sec." He smiled, and got up, heading towards the restrooms.

We waited a minute or two, before she turned her body towards me."Alright. What is it?" Mary asked, all business.

She knows. Might as well.

I took a deep breath, looking around the restaurant, happy that no one was sitting behind us, or was coming this way.

"I'm late." I said, quietly.

"For? You can go, you know." She laughed. "I won't stop you." When I didn't laugh as well, she grew serious again. "Not what I'm thinking, then." She guessed.

"Probably not."

"Okay." She thought for a moment, then her eyes grew wide. "No!" She exclaimed. "Are you…"

"No!" I said, panicked. "I don't know."  
"You haven't done a test?" She asked.

"No, no yet."

"Why not?" She asked with a laugh.

"Sometimes it does this. It happened a lot when I was a teen, but..._circumstances..._ are different now." I explained, "This time, I actually could be pregnant."

"Wait, what?" Greg asked, sitting down. "You're pregnant?"  
"She doesn't know. She hasn't done a test." She paused, glancing at me. "Yet."

"Does Sherlock know? John?" Greg wondered. "John's a doctor. He could help a little, I bet."

I shook my head. "You guys are the first people I've told."

"Why not try a test?" Greg suggested.

"No, I want to wait a while. It might just be late, if it comes at all, but like I said, I'm stressing out a little bit."

"Well stop stressing. If you are pregnant, it's not good for the baby." He said.

"I know." I sighed. "I'll be careful this week, and if it doesn't happen next week, I'll take a test." I said. Mary seemed satisfied with my answer. "I'm just afraid Sherlock would find it." I admitted.

"Okay." Mary said. "The moment you decide you want to, call me. We'll have a girl's night, you me, Molly, Greg,"  
"I'm not a girl." He objected, but she ignored him. I laughed.

", and we can get a test, maybe some dinner, and catch a movie, and you can do it at our house. I'll get John out, if it makes you more comfortable." She suggested with a smile. "You don't even have to tell us the result if you don't want it. Just if it makes you feel better about doing the test."

I smiled. "Thanks."

I said. I was still nervous (I was going to have to buy it...that was going to be kind of intimidating), but Greg seemed to have read my mind.

"Hey, and if you need anything, don't be a stranger." He shrugged. "I'll even buy the thing if you would rather. I can slip it to you during a case, if you're still going to be hanging in the back."

I smiled. "Thanks."  
"No problem. What are friends for, besides paying your lunch bill." He smiled, standing up.  
"You didn't." I said, grabbing my coat and purse, almost shoving Mary out of the booth to stand up.

"Yeah, I did. Mary and I invited you, we pay. Plus, you're pregnant-wouldn't seem fair."

"I'm not pregnant." I said. Him and Mary turned and walked in front of me.

"Uh-huh,' Mary said. "Come on preggers." She called over her shoulder. I rushed to catch up.

* * *

Mary drove, and I tried napping in the front seat, when he phone beeping woke me up.

"Will you check that, if you don't mind. Might be John." She said, and I took her phone from the cup holder, unlocking it, and checking the text.

"What is it."  
"Don't know. It's not from John, though."

"Well, who's it from?" She wondered.

"No idea."  
She huffed. "Read it out to me."

"'Save souls now!

John or James Watson?

Saint or Sinner?

James or John?

The more the Less?'"

I read out. She found a parking place, and took the phone, reading it. Suddenly, she threw the phone back in the cup holder, and stomped on the gas, weaving through traffic.

"Mary, what's wrong."  
"That's a skip code."  
I picked her phone back up.

"I don't see it."

She didn't answer, and I kept staring at the message, trying to figure it out, but it was only making my head hurt.

She skidded to a stop in front of the flat, and rushed out of her car, pocketing her phone. I ran after her, catching up just as Mrs. Hudson opened the door.

"Oh, Mrs. Hudson.' Mary greeted. Mrs. H only frowned as Mary pushed her way inside, going to the stairs. "Sorry- I-I think someone's got John. John Watson." she apologized.

"Hang on! Who are you?" Mrs. Hudson asked. I made my way in as well.

"Oh, I'm his finacee."

Mrs. Hudson only smiled. "Ah."

I ran up the stairs behind Mary, in a panic, waiting for an explanation.

"Mary? What's wrong." Sherlock said, already out of the flat, on the landing, and Mary pulled out her phone.

"Someone sent me this. At first I thought it was just a Bible thing, you know, spam, but it's not. It's a skip code."

She showed him the message, and he stared at it for a few seconds, before figuring it out.

How?  
"First word, then every third." I walked closer, looking at the message myself. "Save...John….Watson." He didn't continue, but I got the pattern, and did that part myself.

Saint

James

The Less.

"Now!" Sherlock said urgently, dropping what was left of his chips on the floor, racing down the stairs. Mary and I followed, my heart pounding, but Mary stopped me. I sighed.

"Really?"

"Might be better if you do stay."

Sherlock glanced at her oddly, but then nodded, agreeing.

"Why does she get to go, but I can't?" I asked.

"Elizabeth." She sighed, glancing down at my stomach. Sherlock's back was to her, so he didn't catch it.

I didn't want to argue any further. We were just wasting time.

"Okay. Be careful."

"Of course." He kissed my cheek, then flew down the stairs, Mary following close behind.

I bent down, picking up some of the chips, throwing them away.

* * *

Third Person POV  
After John was admitted to the hospital so they could take a look at his burns, Sherlock went home, highly doubting John would want to see him.

He hailed a cab, though he would have rather walked, but it was late, and the cab would be much faster.

Though this cabbie decided to drive agonizingly slow.

On the way home, while staring out of the window, he put tonight's major events on the back burner, surprisingly, and, instead, thought about his wife, trying to figure it out.

He could tell she wasn't herself. The past few days she had been acting odd, and tonight wasn't like Elizabeth at all, and it bothered him immensely.

He could tell that she was lying when she said she was fine, and tried to pretend that when she took her morning shower, she wasn't coughing, and, then faked little coughs throughout the day. He knew they were fake-they were nothing like the coughs he heard in the morning, if you could even call them coughs.

He never asked her about them, though.

But he could tell she was hiding something, and he didn't like it.

He wanted to help, but he had no idea how.

If John would talk to him, he could help. He knew his sister better than anyone.

Mary might, but he wasn't sure.

He had decided to ask her when he got home, and walked into the flat, already starting the conversation, but she was already asleep on the couch, a book falling from between her thumb, and the rest of her fingers, almost falling to the floor.

Carefully, he removed the book from her grip, putting it on the table, planning on returning it to the shelf in the morning. He slid an arm under her shoulders, and one under her knees, and lifted her up. She was a tad heavier than he remembered, but he ignored it, and took her to bed, redressing her in her pajamas, trying his best not to wake her, then pulled the blanket up to her chin, and crawled in himself.

* * *

Elizabeth POV

The next few days, Sherlock had been acting odd. Every once in awhile, he would go to say something, and then stop. When I asked, he told me to ignore it.

It was starting to kind of piss me off, to be honest.

A week had passed, and I knew Mary would be expecting a call. Greg had kept his promise, and, a few days ago, slipped me a test (which actually made us both laugh, causing a few looks, especially from Sherlock, since he was in the middle of his deductions), and it was already packed in my bag, which was ready to go.

I heaved it up onto my shoulder.

"Heading to Mary's. Will you need anything tomorrow? I'll probably be back around noon." I asked. He thought, then shook his head.

"No, I don't think so."

"Alrighty, then." I kissed his cheek as I leaned forward to grab my coat off of the back of the couch, and left.

* * *

Mary, Molly, and I skipped dinner, and the movie, and went straight to her house, none of us able to wait.

Yet, waiting seemed like all I had done all night.

We stared at it for what seemed like 's leg was bouncing up and down, while I wrung my hands over and over again, until they were red and raw. Molly stared down at the floor, her legs crossed, her free leg swinging.

"Kind of funny, really." She giggled, trying to lighten the mood. "Something so small can be so life changing."  
I decided to lighten it as well, laughing to myself. "Yeah, that test on the sink's kind of important to." I nodded. Mary began to cackle, and Molly burst out laughing.

"Did you just make a di-" She laughed harder.

"I might've." I shrugged a shoulder.

Our laughter had died down, and we went back to the way we were, nervous and tired of waiting, but, I will admit, there wasn't as much tension in the room, making the wait a bit more bearable.

"How much longer."

"I've been watching the time. It should be alright, now." Molly said.

I was across the room in the blink of an eye, grabbing the test, but I didn't look at it. I couldn't.

Mary and Molly looked at me, expectantly.

"You okay?" Mary asked, with a small chuckle. I took a deep breath, my stomach feeling a little queasy.

"Yeah."

They waited.

"Go on." Mary prompted. I took another deep breath.

What if I was wrong? What if we did this for nothing? I would feel...awful. What if I was just getting sick?

I took another deep breath in, sitting on the counter, and looking at the stick in my hands.

I looked at Mary.

"What does that mean?" I asked her. She walked towards me, and grabbed it, turning it her way. Molly got up from the tub as well, walking forward a bit.

I didn't gage her reaction, until she looked up at me, one hand on my shoulder, and I got it.

I put my head in my hands, and cried.

**Don't know how I feel about this one…**

**Kind of a cliffhanger, for ya ;) Sorry.**

**Reviews**

_**So I'm going to guess that Miss Elizabeth is pregnant and Sherlock is the baby-daddy :)**_

_**Fun chapter, as usual. I would have really loved to see more of your own original scenes. How does Elizabeth change the story because she is in it, besides just being Sherlock's wife and John's sister? She's a bit of a flat character at the moment, which tends to happen with OC's that have been inserted into the preexisting world. Give her more life, and you'll find that she takes up a lot more space in the story that she has thus far. If you have any questions, feel free to message me! Another thing that I noticed was that there were a fair few grammar and punctuation mistakes, with some words completely missing. A thorough read through after waiting a few days after writing will help catch most of these (some of them also come from fanfic screwing up the format I think, which happens to me all of the time- so annoying!). One overarching punctuation mistake I see you commonly doing in is switching a comma for a full stop in your dialogue, example: '"I love Sherlock.' Elizabeth**_

_**said." is incorrect, whilst "'I love Sherlock,' Elizabeth said." is correct. Just something to think about. Can't wait for then next chapter! Lots of love, CheckAlexa**_

**So sorry about the mistakes! My computer at my dads is really slow, and the keyboard is awful! I end up pressing wrong keys, and sometimes if the computer can't keep up with my typing, it omits things, and it's always such a struggle. I usually go through and check, but the last chapter was ten pages, and by then end, and even thinking about it, I was just exhausted, but I wanted to go ahead and post it as soon as I could.**

**Plus I hadn't slept very well there, because it was Christmas and I was excited, so that added to my problem.**

**But I will, in the future, end up doing my best to go through these chapters one at a time, and try to fix all of those mistakes, and thank you so much for pointing them out to me! I try to catch them as I'm writing, but I guess I glossed over a lot! Thank you!**

**And thank you for the tips as well! I will definitely use them!**

**Also, sorry Elizabeth has become a little flat. I wasn't sure, especially in the last chapter, how I was going to write her in with Molly, and not make it extremely awkward, because, if you follow me on tumblr, you would know that I am a huge sherlolly fan, so it was kind of difficult for me to write it, and then there's Molly, who's in love with Sherlock, and a few of those scenes really showed that, and so it was really difficult for me. I do hope, though, that I have done better with this chapter!**

**The beginning of this review had me laughing out loud. All I can say, is, you're just going to have to wait and see! It might not be what you think it is...or is it?**

_**:I'm glad your Holiday went well! Your an amazing writer so don't ever give up ok? You will only get better and better as you continue best of luck to you my friend**_

_**~Guest**_

**Aww, thank you, dear! I hope your Holiday was wonderful!**

**Thank you so much, it truly means a lot to me.**

**The best of luck to you as well, love!**

**Mahogany B***:I can't wait till the next chapter! Because I know what's wrong with Elizabeth! You told me on tumblr!**

**Yesh I did! it shouldn't be too long of a wait, because I'm super excited!**

**~Eruaphadriel**


	41. Chapter 41

_I have stuff all over my hands…._

_Crap._

_I'm going to try to start doing my A/Ns in italics now...seems a bit more formal, and cleaner._

_Though, if you know me you know I am neither of those things…._

_Also, people are flirting, kind of, and it's awkward, because I don't like them, but they're so nice, and I don't want to hurt their feelings….._

_I don't do relationships...Leave those for books._

_I am super excited and super nervous about this chapter, and there are so many websites I have awkwardly scrolled through trying to find information….if someone went through my history._

_And I'm getting to look at different colleges today! Woohoo!_

_Alright, I'm done._

I walked through the door of 221B, ready to run up the stairs. During the ride home, I had gotten a sudden, yet strange burst of confidence, and decided it might be better to just...say it. Like ripping off a band-aid.

As I hurried to the stairs leading to the flat, Mrs. Hudson emerged, a garbage bag in hand.

"Oh, Elizabeth!" She grinned. "I didn't know you were coming home so soon. I thought Sherlock said you were going to be gone until noon?"

I nodded, ready to get up the stairs, before my confidence went down the drain. "Yeah, I did too, but I have something to tell Sherlock. Couldn't wait." I explained, quickly.

"Ah! Well, I think Sherlock just went out. Don't know what for." She shook her head. "I haven't heard him come back."

I almost cursed. "Oh. Alright, then. Thanks." I called to her, going up the stairs slowly, my confidence already drained, like a flat tire, or a balloon with a hole in its side.

I was exhausted, like I had been the past few weeks, but instead of napping, which was tempting, I decided to do some research on my own.

Talking to Mary, who luckily was a nurse, and to Molly, who, from her college classes years ago, and from friends, had some vague knowledge, both agreed that I might be six weeks along, so I quickly scrolled through the internet, before giving up, laying back on the couch, staring at the ceiling, then down at my stomach.

I don't know how long I laid there, before I found my hand resting on my stomach, rising and falling as I breathed.

I smiled, and in that moment, It seemed almost impossible to frown. I even giggled a little, and Mrs. Hudson popped her head in the door.

"Everything alright?" She asked with a small laugh, coming inside, sitting at the edge of the couch, her hand going to rest on my ankle.

"Yeah." I smiled. "Just thinking." She laughed.

"Oh, I do the same things!" She waved a hand, shaking her head. "You think of something silly, and you can't help but laugh to yourself."

"Did you need something?" I wondered out loud, knowing she wouldn't be up here if she didn't.

"Oh, I was just wondering, I got another bottle of wine from a friend of mine last week, and I'm not going to drink it. I was wondering if you would like to come down and have a glass. I feel like I haven't seen you in ages. Or, maybe take it to Mary's if you even stay over with her and Molly again. It's the one you really like." She had a generous friend who would bring her very expensive wine all the time.

Sherlock and I argue on how long it will take before he asks her on a date.

I wanted to except, so bad, but I declined. I didn't know much about what I should avoid, but I knew alcohol was an absolute no-no.

"Sorry." I shook my head. "Maybe another time." I offered, though I knew it would be a long while.

"Oh, that's fine." She patted my ankle.

"Elizabeth Jane Holmes? Refusing a glass of her favorite wine?" I heard Sherlock ask. He came into the flat, removing his gloves. "That's unheard of."

"Well, you know what they say. There's a first time for everything." I shrugged a shoulder. I felt Mrs. Hudson's cold hand on my ankle again.

"Well, whenever you want a glass, don't hesitate to ask." She huffed. "I don't know why he gives them to me. I can't drink it all on my own." She mumbled, walking out.

"Should we tell her? I want to tell her."  
I giggled. "Let her figure it out."

* * *

Third Person POV:  
Sherlock made sure to stay in bed until Elizabeth woke up the next morning. He didn't think she was coughing, but he knew something was wrong.

But he wasn't going to jump to conclusions. At least he tried not to. His brain still wondered from time to time.

Elizabeth woke up much later than usual, staying in bed for only a few seconds, before getting up, and storming to the bathroom.

* * *

Elizabeth POV:

I didn't even make it to the shower to turn the water on, before I flung myself in front of the toilet.

I coughed and sputtered, gasping for air, before throwing up again, my throat burning.

I tried the best that I could to hold back my hair, but something stopped me, grabbing my hair for me, into a low ponytail, another hand, rubbing my back, and making sure my unruly fringe in the front stayed out of the way.

Once it was over, and I could finally breath again, I felt him press a wet rag to my mouth, gently, making sure it was clean, while I tried to catch my breath.

Only when I was sure I wasn't going to puke anymore for the time being, did I lean back, my head resting against Sherlock's chest, and I closed my eyes, his hand rubbing up and down my arm, gently.

"Thank you." I said quietly, my throat a little sore, and my voice becoming hoarse.

He placed a cold hand to my forehead. "You don't feel warm." He mumbled. "Do you want to go to the doctor?" I shook my head.

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" he asked. I nodded. "Could be the stomach flu." He thought out loud. "I thought I heard Mary say it was going around again."

"It's not the stomach flu."

"Oh, you're so sure?"

"I'm sure." I said, confidently, hoping he would trust me, and not bug me about it anymore.

"What's going on then, Mrs. Expert?"

I waited for a second, terrified, almost backing out.

No time like the present, right?

"I'm pregnant." I said quietly, almost like a whisper.

Should've said food poisoning...

The hand rubbing my arm stopped, so had the steady rise and fall of Sherlock's chest, and I pulled away, looking at him.

"Sherl?" I asked. He only stared at me. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but closed it again.

I waited.

"Did you say you're pregnant?"  
I felt my eyes widen. "I might've." I said slowly.

"Well, that would explain a lot, now that I think about it."

"Oh, really?"

"Mmhmm." He hummed. "Mood swings, odd cravings, you've been tired more, and have complained about lower back and abdominal pain, increased appetite, and now this. I can't believe I didn't put it together before."

I smiled. "Sherlock Holmes couldn't figure it out?" I teased.

"Oh, shut up." I laughed, but I couldn't help but think that maybe he didn't figure it out, because he didn't want kids. We hadn't talked about it, and I didn't even know if he likes kids, or if, given his job, it was even safe enough to have a baby.

But he was just as nervous as I was, and, just like I was denying it with Mary and Lestrade, maybe that's what he was doing.

He didn't want to think about it, because he was scared, and nervous.

Can't really say I blame him.

But whatever the reason was, he forgot it, as the corners of his lips actually turned up in a small smile, and he sighed.

"I'm going to be a father." he mused to himself, but then his brows furrowed, and his smiled fell. "I'm going to be an awful father."

I hit his knee gently. "You are not. I think you'll be a great dad." I argued.

He raised an eyebrow. "You will be. Mrs. Expert said so."  
He chuckled, and I leaned back again, resting my head back on his chest.

"This will be one lucky baby." I said, closing my eyes.

"How so?"

"Well, he'll be incredibly smart, I mean, look at his mother." Sherlock scoffed.

"'He'?" He wondered. I nodded.

"Yup. It's a boy."

"How do you know? I think it's a girl."  
"Mother's instinct." I argued.

"That's a solid argument." He said, sarcastically.

"It really is. It's not a girl. This is a boy. Are you saying you think it's a girl just to argue.

"No, I really think it is." He said. "Carry on."

I sighed. "Plus, _he_ will have Uncle John, and Aunt Mary, and, Uncle Mycroft."

"Oh, Mycroft is going to be beyond ecstatic." He said, and I could hear the fear in his voice. "And when _she_ get's here, we'll never get Uncle Myc to leave."

""Myc'?" I laughed.

"Oh yeah. Pisses him off every time."

I laughed.

"And Uncle Greg."

"Greg?"

"Lestrade, sweetie." I sighed.

"Oh." He said. "Wait, why _Uncle _Lestrade."

I shrugged. "Don't know. Seemed appropriate." I thought. "And most of Scotland Yard. Our son will not be bullied."

"No our _daughter_ will not."

"Shut up." I hit his chest. "It's a boy." I frowned.

"No."

WE stayed there for a few minutes, is silence, before I huffed.

"We need to get up." I said, leaning forward. Sherlock rose to his feet, and help out a hand. "Need help?" he wondered.

"I'm not a whale yet." I said, getting up on my own...well, with a little help from the sink.

Once we were dressed, and I had brushed my teeth about five times, the doorbell rang.

"Is that your parents?" I asked from the bathroom.

"Probably." Sherlock appeared in the doorway. "Do you want to tell the now?" He asked, quietly, as his parents were being ushered in by Mrs. Hudson.

"No. No let's keep it a secret for now, I mean, _you _just found out _today_."  
He nodded. "Alright." and he swung back around, going to the living room to greet his parents.

I walked in a minute or two after him, and his mother beamed, stopping her story, to get up from the couch, and walk over to me. I met her halfway.

"Elizabeth!" She exclaimed, coming to hug me. "Oh, how are you. You look well."

"I'm great. You?"

"Wonderful." She answered, releasing me from her grip, and I moved to his father, who bent down to hug me as well.

"Lovely to see you again." He said. I only smiled, as they sat on the couch. Sherlock was in his chair, already looking miserable.

"Do you want something to drink?" I asked them, and Sherlock spoke up.

"I made tea before you got in here. It's on the counter." Sherlock said, nodding to the kitchen.

"Tea would be lovely, thank you." Mrs. Holmes said. His father only shook his head.

"What about you?" I asked Sherlock. He shook his head as well.

"Anyway, it wasn't the way I put it at all. Silly woman. Anyway, it was then that I first noticed it was missing. I said, 'Have you checked down the back of the sofa?'" I walked in with two mugs, one for her, and one for me, and saw Sherlock's head lean forward, and then jerk back again, like he was nodding off. I laughed a little, handing her mug to her. "Thank you, dear." She took a sip, then continued. "He's always losing things down the back of the sofa, aren't you, dear?" She asked her husband, and he nodded. I sat sideways in John's chair, to listen.

"'Fraid so." He answered.

"Keys, small chains, sweeties. Especially his glasses."

"Glasses." Mr. Holmes said, only seconds after his wife had.

"Blooming things. I said, 'Why don't you get a chain-wear-'em round your neck?' And he says, 'What-like Larry Grayson?'"

"Larry Grayson." Mr. Holmes repeated, almost simultaneously. I laughed a little, and Sherlock rose to his feet, quickly, walking towards them.

"So did you find it eventually, your lottery ticket?" He asked, stepping onto the coffee table, and then onto the sofa, between his parents, looking through the paperwork tacked to the wall. His mother leaned over, while Mr. Holmes only stared up at him.

"Well, yes, thank goodness. We caught the coach on time after all. We managed to see, er, St. Paul's, the Tower...but they weren't letting anyone into Parliament. Some big debate going on." She said, as Sherlock frowned at her, and the door swung open, John coming in.

"John!" Sherlock explained.

"Sorry-you're busy." Sherlock jumped off the sofa, pulling his parents to their feet.

"Er, no, no, no, they were just leaving."  
"Oh, were we?" She asked.

"Yes."

"No, no, they're your parents," John began, but Sherlock interrupted him.

"No, it's really fine, no, no, no. Go." he said to his mother. "'Bye."  
"Yeah, well, we're here till Saturday, remember." She reminded him.

"Yes, great, wonderful. Just get out."  
"Well, give us a ring." His mother insisted.

"Very nice, yes, good. Get out." He pushed them onto the landing, and attempted to close the door, but something stopped it, and Sherlock poked his head out. John looked at me, confused, and I laughed, shrugging.

"How've you been?" He asked. I nodded.

"Never better." I answered, as Sherlock slammed the door.

"Sorry about that." He apologized, moving to the window.

"No, it's fine." John answered. "You didn't have to hurry them."

"Well, they're in town for a few days. No doubt I'll see them again. Mycroft promised to take them to a matinee of '_Les Mis'._ Tried to talk me into doing it."

"They seem nice." John commented. "I didn't talk to them too long, but I met them at the wedding."

"I'm sorry." Sherlock mumbled. John chuckled.

"But, I will say they were not what I was expecting."

Sherlock spun around. "What do you mean?"

"Well, they're just so…" John thought for a moment. "...ordinary."

"It's a cross I have to bear." Sherlock replied, and John chuckled again. John moved into the room, before turning about around.

"Did they know, too?" He asked.

"Hmm?" Sherlock hummed, not meeting John's eyes, and I sighed at my brother, hashing up the argument from about a month ago, which they _did_ need to talk about, but not like this.

"That you spent the last two years playing hide and hide and seek." John clarified.

"Maybe." Sherlock mumbled, fidgeting with things on the table.

"Ah! So that's why they weren't at the funeral."

"Sorry. Sorry again." Sherlock apologized, quickly. John only hummed in response. "Sorry.' He said again, softer this time. John didn't answer. "See you've shaved it off, then." He commented, referencing his mustache.

"Yeah. Wasn't working for me." He said.

"You look a lot better without it." I said.

"Thanks." John smiled.

"Mm, I'm glad." Sherlock nodded.

"What, you didn't like it either?"

"No. I prefer my doctors clean-shaven."

"That's not something you hear everyday." John said, and I laughed.

"How are you feeling?" I asked. "Sherlock told me what happened. Awful."

"Yeah, not bad. Bit...smoked."

"Right." I said, smiling.

John looked at Sherlock again. "Last week-who did that? And why did they target _me?_"

"I don't know."

"Is it someone trying to get to you through me? Is it something to do with this terrorist thing you talked about?"

"I don't know. I can't see the pattern. It's too nebulous." He walked to the papers tacked to the wall above the couch.

"Why would an agent give his life to tell us something incredibly insignificant? that's what's strange."  
"'Give his life'?" John repeated.

"According to Mycroft. There's an underground network planning an attack on London-that's all we know." He was silent for a moment, before gesturing to the paperwork. "These are my rats, John."

"Rats?"

"My markers: agents, low-lifes, people who might find themselves arrested or their diplomatic immunity suddenly rescinded. Of one of them starts acting suspiciously, we know something's up. Five of them are behaving perfectly normally, but the sixth…" John went over to look at the picture he was pointing at, and I only craned my neck to see the best that I could from the chair.

"I know him, don't I?" John asked.

"Lord Moran, peer of the realm, Minister for Overseas Development. Pillar of the establishment. He's been working for North Korea since 1996."

"What?"

"He's the Big Rat. Rat Number One. And he's just done something _very_ suspicious indeed."

"What has he done?" John asked. Sherlock turned to look at me.

"Did you ever get the copy from Howard?"  
"Who? The train guy?"

"Yeah, him." Sherlock nodded.

"Yeah, it's in my purse. I'll go get it." I said, rising from the chair, and hurrying to the bedroom to get the tape, my stomach becoming sick again on the way, but I ignored it.

I rushed to give it to him.

He put it in his computer, turning it so John could see, and played the tape.

"Yeah." John nodded. "That's...odd. There's nowhere he could have got off?"

"Not according to the maps." I answered.

"Mm."  
"There's something-" Sherlock began. "something I'm missing, something staring in the face." His phone beeped, and he moved to look at it, John scooting over so I could see better.

"Any idea who they are-this underground network?" John asked. "intelligence must have a-a list of the most obvious ones."

"One rat's just come out of his den." I heard Sherlock mumble, and I moved to look at when he was showing me on his phone. It was the picture of the man, Sebastian Moran, coming from a train station.

"Al-Qaeda; The IRA have been getting restless again-maybe they're gonna make an appearance…"  
"Yes, yes, yes, yes, YES!" Sherlock shouted. "I've been an idiot-a blind idiot!"

"What?" John spun around.

"Oh, that's good. That could be _brilliant_."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, confused.

"Not an underground network. It's an _Underground_ network." He said, excited.

"Right…what?" John asked, but I looked at the picture again, starting to put things together.

"Sometimes a deception is so audacious, so outrageous that you can't see it even when it's staring you in the face." He replayed the clip.

"Look-seven carriages leave Westminster...but only six carriages arrive at St. James's Park." He explained.

"But there's nowhere the carriage could have gone?"

"Obviously Moran didn't disappear-the whole Tube compartment did. The driver must have diverted the train, and then detached the last carriage."

"Again, there's nothing between those stations. There's nowhere the carriage could have gone." I reminded.

"once you eliminate all the other factors, the only thing remaining must be the truth. that carriage vanished, so it must be somewhere."

"Why detach it in the first place?" John asked. Sherlock didn't answer, and instead began to pace.

"It vanishes between St. James's Park and Westminster. Lord Moran vanishes. You're kidnapped and nearly burned to death at a fireworks par…" He stopped. "What's the date-today's date."

"November the...My God." John answered.

"Lord Moran-he's peer of the realm. Normally he's sit in the House. Tonight there's an all-night sitting ot cote on the new anti-terrorism Bill. But he won't be there. Not tonight. Not the fifth of November."

"'Remember, remember.'" John recited.

"'Gunpowder treason and plot.'"

* * *

_A good place to stop it I think..._

_So...this chapter was a bit of a difficult one, because, I have never been pregnant before, and I have absolutely no idea what it's like... _

_I've been looking up a lot of stuff about it (of course, deleting the history, so no one thinks I'm actually pregnant, and I have to tell them, as I always do, "I'm a writer, I swear! I didn't do the do!" Which results in weird looks and questions like "Why are you writing about a pregnant woman?" And I would just like to avoid the conversation all together, ya know?_

_ALSO, something that has occurred to me, is baby names? I know the gender already, and I'm kind of excited, but I need names._

_I won't tell you what the gender is (it's a surprise!), but I DO need names, and I'm thinking about making it a bit of a contest, with both FanFic, and Wattpad readers._

_You guys can submit a first/first and middle names (because I'm going blank) for a boy/girl, or both. The best name wins, and, of course, not only will the winner have names the beautiful new Holmes', but will also get a nice little shout out, and gets to pick from the same three prizes there were last time:_

_1-give main plot for the next chapter/ next one shot (after the winner has been announced)_

_2-get a sneak peek into the next chapter_

_or_

_3-get's to write a scene for the next chapter, or the whole chapter, if they would rather (it was done before, and it was really neat working with her!)_

_Or they can come up with one of their own._

_I would suggest submitting both a boy and a girl's name, since you don't know the gender, but I have been going back and forth. I think a boy or a girl would be really cute…_

_Of course, you guys have until Baby Holmes is born to submit, and you can submit more than once, and a whole list of names, if you want..._

_Reviews:_

Woah I mean I was expecting that but honestly I wonder if Sherlock might not already kind of suspect this?

~Anber

_He did, kind of, but I think there are a few places in this chapter that might clear it up a bit :)_

Great chapter! I liked how there were more original scenes in this chapter! It was a lot more fun to read something completely new. A really great story that kind of references something I was talking about in my last review that you might want to check out is 'Let the Words Fall Out' by A.J. Parker758 here on fanfiction. It's an OC story about John's niece who is inserted into the first series. I think you should read it (besides it being a wonderful story!) because it can show you how you can add a character into something already existing and keeping the basic story, but changing some of the circumstances surrounding it. Hope that helps some! And I totally agree about typing too fast- I do it all of the time! Can't wait for the next chapter! Lots of Love, CheckAlexa

_I'm trying to add more and more original scenes, and it's getting a little easier to do so, now._

_Thank you for the recommendation! I'll definitely look into it! I love to read other fanfic's, and see how the writer does things, and works in their OC. It's always really interesting to me, and definitely will help, no doubt about it! And it sounds really interesting, too. Thank you again!_

~Eruaphadriel


	42. Chapter 42

_I am freaking out a little right now, you guys don't even know how excited I am!_

_First snow day of the year today, whoop, whoop, so guess who's still in bed, and is going to spend the rest of her day writing?_

_This gal!_

_And hopefully there will be many more to go (because I hate school, and somethings I really want to avoid, for, like, ever.)_

_So if it could snow all the time, that would be lovely._

_Kind of selfish, I know, but…_

_Okay, bye._

"There's nothing down there, Mr. Holmes, I told you. no sidings, no ghost stations."Howard Shilcott said. Sherlock had somehow manages to skype him, and brought the computer to the table in the kitchen, which was covered in maps, which John and I were rummaging through.

"There _has_ to be. Check again."

"Look-this whole area is a big mess of old and new stuff." John said, looking through a book. I leaned over to look at it. "Charing Cross is made up of bits of older stations like Trafalgar Square, Strand…"

"No, it's none of those. We've accounted for those." Sherlock interrupted. I went back to the map I was looking at, an older one, and began to read off of it.

"St. Margaret's Street….Bridge Street, Sumatra Road, Parliament Street," I read off, hoping Sherlock or Howard would recognize one of them. I was in luck.

"You mentioned Sumatra Road, Mrs. Holmes. There is something, I knew it rang a bell." He went off screen.

"See, I'm smart. What did I say earlier this morning? 'He'll be incredibly smart.'?" Sherlock shook his head. "'Just look at his mother?'" I said smiling. Sherlock shook his head again.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I laughed at him. "But _she_ will be smart."  
"Shut up."

"What did you say?" John asked.

"Nothing." We said at the same time, and Howard came back into view.

"There was a station down there." Howard said.

"Well, why isn't it on the maps?" John wondered.

He held up a book. "They built the platforms, even the staircases, but it all got tied up in legal disputes, so they never built the station on the surface." He pointed to a page, grinning.

"It's right underneath the Palace of Westminster." Sherlock mumbled.

"And so what's under there? A bomb?" John asked

Sherlock only walked away.

"Oh…" John said, following after him, and I did the same.

I had already pulled on my coat when we reached the bottom of the stairs, but Sherlock, who stopped and waited, stopped me.

"Elizabeth, " he began to argue. I straightened the collar of my coat, trying to push past him.

"I'm going this time." I said, but he stopped me again, and looked back at John, who pretended not to be paying attention.

"You can't go." He whispered.

"Why?"

"You're pregnant. This is way too dangerous.

"You can't go. I'm is no way you're going to go get blown up, and leave me alone, not again, and especially not with a baby. There is no way I could do this on my own."

"So you're going to risk, not only your life, but our _child's_ life as well, because you don't want to be alone again?" Sherlock's voice was getting louder and louder, and I saw John turn around, a little concerned.

"I could help."

"Do you know anything about defusing a bomb?" Sherlock asked. I sighed.

"No but, "

"See. It's too risky." he put his scarf on.

"Elizabeth," John began, his voice calmer, and softer. "It might be better if you stayed." He nodded.

"I want to help." I argued, knowing it was. John looked at Sherlock.

"Why can't she go? She's helped us before, and with the police and bomb disposal, it'll be fine." He said. Obviously (and thankfully) he hadn't heard the beginning of the argument.

Sherlock only huffed, and walked out.

"I guess that's an 'okay'?" John chuckled, and we walked outside, trying to catch up.

* * *

"So it's a bomb, then? The Tube carriage is carrying a bomb?" John asked.

"Must be."

"Right."

We walked through the ticket barriers, and along hallways, and John took out his phone.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked.

"Calling the police."

"What? No."

"Sherlock, this isn't a game. they need to evacuate Parliament."

"They'll get in the way. They always do. This is cleaner. More efficient."  
"I thought that was the whole reason you agreed to let Elizabeth come? Because with the police and bomb disposal, it would be safer?"  
Sherlock didn't answer. Instead he stopped at a locked entrance, reaching in his coat, and taking out a crowbar.

"This is illegal." John reminded him.

"A bit." Sherlock said, prying the gate open, and then pulling the gate closed once we were inside.

John took out his flashlight, and I walked beside him, Sherlock a couple of paces ahead already.

John took out his phone, no doubt to attempt to try to phone the police again, but he had no service.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked, not even turning around.

"Coming." John sighed, putting his phone away, and walking again.

It seemed like we had walked forever, and my feet were beginning to hurt before we reached the station, but there was no train.

"I don't understand."

"Well, that's a first." John said, and I laughed a little.

"There's nowhere else it could be." He brought his hands to his head, thinking for a minute, while I got closer to the edge, looking down the tunnel, trying to prove that I could help, even if I knew nothing about bombs.

"Oh!" Sherlock said, suddenly, coming towards the edge. John chased after him, and Sherlock jumped from the platform, and onto the tracks.

"Hang on. Sherlock?"

"What?" Sherlock said, turning around.

"That...isn't it live?"

"Perfectly safe as long as we avoid touching the rails.." He answered, walking down the tracks. "Help Elizabeth, please."

John, who had already jumped down, moved back towards the platform, holding out a hand, and helping me down, like Sherlock had asked.

"This way." Sherlock called, farther away.

"You sure?" John asked, as we began to walk down the tracks as well.

"Sure."

I was watching the rails, making sure I wasn't even coming close to them, and glancing over at John's feet too, because he was paying no attention.

"Ah. Look at that." I heard John say, and I looked up, following the light from his flashlight, finding the missing carriage.

"John." Sherlock said, pointing his flashlight up. John did the same.

"What are those?" I asked. Above us was a vent, with small devices attached to the sides.

"Demolition charges." John answered.

We moved closer to the carriage, and John shined his light underneath it, while Sherlock looked around. There was nothing unusual about it. It was just a, seemingly, empty carriage.

Sherlock opened the door to the driver's cab, and we climbed in, going through the opposite door into the carriage itself.

We looked at every seat, in every corner, trying to find something, but there was nothing.

"It's empty." John said.

I looked along the walls, pacing, before pointing to two small wires along the wall, into one of the seats.

"What's that?" I wondered. Sherlock followed the wires, and lifted the cushion, shining his light underneath.

"This is a bomb." he mumbled

"What?"

Underneath the cushion was a hole, full of wired-up explosives.

"It's not carrying explosives. the whole compartment is the bomb."

Sherlock and John both, lifted up the cushions, revealing more wires and devices, all identical.

Sherlock, who stopped lifted cushions, began, instead, to tear off a floor panel. Underneath, was a device, much, much bigger than the ones underneath the seats, with a timer strapped onto it.

"We need bomb disposal." John said.

"There may not be time for that now."

"So what do we do?" I asked.

"I have no idea."

"Well, think of something." John said, sternly.

"Why d'you think I know?"

"Because you're Sherlock Holmes. You're as clever as it gets." John reminded.  
"Doesn't mean I know how to defuse a giant bomb. What about you?"

"I wasn't in bomb disposal. I'm a bloody doctor."

"And a soldier, as you keep reminding us all." He pointed his flashlight at him.

"Can't-can't we rip the timer off or something?" John asked.

"That would set it off."

"See you know things!" John said. Seconds later, all of the lights came on, and the countdown began. John groaned, and I tried to stay calm, taking deep breaths, but it wasn't working very well.

"My God!" John yelled. "Why didn't you call the police? Why do you never call the police?"

"Well, it's no use now." Sherlock answered.

"So you can't switch the bomb off, and you didn't call the police." John said, angrily. I didn't say anything, instead, kept taking deep breaths.

"Go." Sherlock said, looking from John, to me, and then back to John. "Go now."

"There's no point now, is there, because there's not enough time to get away; and if we don't do this, other people will die!"

I tried to think of something, anything, that could help, and try not to be dead weight.

"What about your Mind Palace?" I asked him.

"How will _that_ help?"

"You've salted away every fact under the sun!"

"Oh, and you think I've just got 'How To Defuse A Bomb' tucked away in there somewhere."

"Yes!" John answered.

He thought for a second. "Maybe." He brought his fingers to his temples, his eyes screwed shut.

"Think." John said. "Think, please, think." Sherlock only groaned in response, no doubt John's please, and the whole situation, not making it any easier to concentrate.

Sherlock's hands went back down, away from his face, before crying out, opening his eyes.

"Oh my God." John said in disbelief. Sherlock took off his scarf, throwing it aside, doubling over, and I placed a hand on his shoulder, lightly. He dropped to his knees in front of the bomb, my hand leaving his shoulder, flailing over the bomb, stuttering, while John wondered around the carriage, muttering.

Sherlock raised his head. "I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I can't...I can't do it. I don't know how. Forgive me? Both of you."

I shook my head, unable to believe it, and looked down to see how much time we had.

1:29

1:28

1:2...9?

Then back ot 1:28, the timer flicking back and forth. I turned around, away from John, so he wouldn't see my smile.

"What?"

"Forgive me, for all the hurt I caused you.

"No, no, no, no, no, no." I heard John say, and I began to laugh, silently, doing my best to make it look as if I were crying. "This is a trick."

"No."

"Another one of your bloody tricks.

"No." Sherlock repeadted.

"You're just trying to get me to say something nice."

"Not this time." Sherlock chuckled, for a second.

"It's just to make you look good even though you behave like…" John trailed off. I turned back around, not smiling, and sat beside Sherlock, who was now sitting in one of the nearby seats. He put a hand on my knee, looking at me, apologetically, but I only smiled a little, my eyes glancing at the timer, and he followed my gaze, looking back at me, and smiling back, both of our smiles falling quickly as John spoke, and I put my head on Sherlock's shoulder, doing my best to hide my face.

"I wanted you not to be dead." John said, his voice low.

"Yeah, well, be careful what you wish for." Sherlock answered. "If I hadn't come back, you wouldn't be standing there and you'd still have a future...with Mary."

"Yeah. I know." John said, obviously not wanting to be reminded of what he was leaving behind.

"And Elizabeth and I would have a future with each other...and our child."

"Wait, what?" John said, and I was glad I was hiding my face as I began to smile again, almost laughing.

Sherlock didn't answer him, and John let it go.

"Look, I find it difficult. I find it difficult this sort of stuff. You were the best, and the wisest man...that I have ever known. Yes, of course I forgive you." John said, and it sounded as if he were crying.

A few seconds later, Sherlock lowered his head, bringing a hand to his face, and his shoulders shook, as if he were crying, but I knew better. He laughed silently for a second, and I chuckled as well, before he turned away, hooting with laughter. John opened his eyes, and saw us giggling, before stepping forward, looking aw the timer.

"You…" John shouted, and we laughed louder. Sherlock stood up, but I couldn't. Instead, I bent over, putting my elbows on my knees, my face in my hands, laughing.

"Oh, your face!"

"...utter…" John struggled.

"Your face!"  
"You…" John shouted again.

"We totally had you."

John looked at me. "You were in on this."

"I figured it out." I said, taking a deep breath, and standing up.

"You cock! I knew it! I knew it! You f…"

"Oh those things you said-such sweet things! I-I never knew you cared." Sherlock said, almost simultaneously with John, and I laughed again.

"I will kill you if you ever breathe a word of this…"

"Scout's honour."

"...to anyone. You KNEW! You knew how to turn it off."

Sherlock squatted beside the bomb, pointing to it.

"There's an Off switch."

"What?" John asked.

"There's always an Off switch. Terrorists can get into all sorts of trouble unless there's an Off switch."

"So why did you let me go through all that?"

"I didn't lie altogether. I've absolutely no idea how to turn any of these silly little lights off."

"And you did call the police." John said, as we heard someone speaking over a radio, and footsteps coming closer to the carriage.

"Of course I called the police."

"I'm definitely going to kill you." John whispered.

"Oh, please. KIlling me, that's so two years ago."

John shook his head, letting out a silent laugh, while Sherlock chuckled, walking away. I turned to follow him, but John caught my arm.

"And, hold on, wait a minute." he said, Sherlock spun around also. '...and our child.'" He quoted. "'_our child.'_" He repeated.

"Yes, we heard you. What about it?" Sherlock asked.

"Are you pregnant?" John asked.

"Surprise!" I sung, trying to lighten the mood, while Sherlock mumbled 'Obviously' behind me. I turned to him.

"Shut up." I said.

"That's why you didn't want her to come." John realised, but Sherlock was already out of the carriage.

"We are going to talk about this!" John yelled, following, and I shook my head at them

* * *

"Should we tell her?" Sherlock wondered. I shrugged

"If you want. Otherwise, she'll keep pestering me about that wine."  
He hummed, as Mrs. Hudson came back in with breakfast.

"Here you go." She said, sliding a plate in front of me, along with a mug of chocolate milk. I grinned.

"Chocolate milk. A bit different." She said.

"Mmm. I know. I've had to run to the store several times this _week_ to get chocolate syrup." Sherlock said, as I took a drink.

"Really?" Mrs. Hudson said.

"She drinks a whole glass every night."  
I nodded.

Mrs. Hudson sighed. "It's so quiet here without John." She said, sitting in an extra chair.

"Won't be for long." Sherlock mumbled, trying to bring it up, but she didn't seem to hear him.

"You two need a pet. A dog, maybe." She said, resting her head in her head. Sherlock looked at me and sighed. I smiled. "Seems lonely in here. But then again, there wasn't always just the two of you."

"Won't be for long." Sherlock said, a little louder this time. I laughed silently.

"What do you mean? Is John moving back in? Have you two got another flat mate?"  
"Yup." Sherlock answered.

"Who? When will they be here?"

"Give her about nine months."  
"_Him_." I corrected. Mrs. Hudson seemed confused.

"Why so long?" She looked at me. "Is it your sister?"

"No, no." I shook my head. "She's back in rehab."

"Oh." She nodded. "Why almost a year?" She asked, again.

"Well, that's usually how long a pregnancy lasts, isn't it?" I answered.

She stared at me for a second, before her eyes went wide, and the corners of her mouth turned up in a smile that went from ear to ear.

"You're pregnant!" She exclaimed, rising from her chair, shaking her head, and giggling excitedly, as she bent over to wrap her tiny arms around my neck.

"Yup." I said. I had to give her credit, for her age, she was strong, and was almost choking me.

"She released me, and practically ran to Sherlock, doing the same to him, though he didn't look very appreciative. More annoyed than anything.

"How far along?" She asked me, standing back up to her full height. Sherlock looked relived.

"Seven weeks, now." I answered. She smiled and clapped her hands.

"Oh! I'm so happy for you! Congratulations!"  
"Thank you." I smiled.

She sighed. "I do wish, though, I could tell you it was going to be pleasant. I had a friend, barely even left her house she stayed so sick to her stomach, and she was constantly using the bathroom."  
"Oh, yeah, I've spent more time _in_ the bathroom than I do _out_ of it, I think." I nodded. She laughed, and waved a hand.

"Oh, but it's all worth it in the end." She smiled, turning to go to the kitchen, humming happily the whole way.

"You've got her singing again." Sherlock said.

"You started it." I answered, finishing my breakfast.

"What time will Mary and John be here?" He asked.

"They should be here any time now, with Lestrade."

He sighed and got up. "Better go get dressed, then." He said, moving to the bedroom, as his phone rang.

* * *

"Oh, I'm really pleased Mary." Mrs. Hudson said. Mary, who I was sharing the couch with, and Lestrade had come over early, a week later, after everything was deemed safe, and the story was being let out. Mrs. Hudson had come up as well, and Molly was on her way. "Have you set a date?"

"Well. we thought May." She answered.

"Ah, a spring wedding." She said, as Sherlock and John came back in. John had gone back to see what was taking him so long, and to remind him off all the press outside.

"Yeah, well, once we actually got engaged."

"Yeah." John agreed. Mary glanced at Sherlock, who was pouring himself a glass of champagne.

"We were interrupted last time." Sherlock smiled at her.

"Yeah." John said again.

"Well, I can't wait." Lestrade said.

Sherlock stood back up, and walked to the window.

"You will be there, Sherlock?" She asked.

"Weddings-not really my thing." He looked across and winked at Mary and I, and we smiled as the door opened.

"Hello everyone!" Molly greeted.

"Hello Molly."

"This is Tom. Tom, this is everyone."

I had my feet on the couch stretched out in front of me, almost in Mary's lap, so with my position, combined with the way Mary was sitting, I couldn't see very well.

Luckily, Tom looked around John, and I craned my neck to see.

"Hi." He said.

"Hi." Lestrade responded, eyes wide. I raised my eyebrows in surprise, because the man Molly had introduced us to bore a striking resemblance to Sherlock.

I knew that she had a crush on him in the past-a huge one, but she had insisted she was over it, and that hse have moved on, and I wasn't upset, I mean, I've seen Sherlock, I see what she sees in him, and this was, honestly, a little comical.

"It's really nice to meet you all. Hi." he said to John, who held out a hand. Mary and I looked at each other, smiling.

"Wow! Yeah, hi, I'm John, good to meet you." he responded.

"Ready?" Sherlock, who had been paying no attention whatsoever, turned around, smiled at Molly, walking forward, then looking up, coming face to face with Tom. Mary put a hand on my ankle, and squeezed lightly, and we watched, nervously.

"Champagne." Lestrade asked Molly. She accepted, and he handed her a glass. Sherlock and Tom stared at eachother for a while, John looking between them both, smiling a little, and I would be lying if I said Mary and I didn't have tears in our eyes, trying to hold back laughter. Sherlock's face was priceless.

Sherlock finally held out a hand, and Tom shook it, smiling, before he walked out, along with John.

"Sit down, love." Mrs. Hudson offered. Mary lifted my legs, moving over, and putting them back in her lap, so Tom could sit down.

Mrs. Hudson, of course, caught him up on everything.

"This is Sherlock's wife, Elizabeth," She pointed to me, and I waved, reaching forward as much as I could to take his hand. "and John's fiancee Mary. You have to watch those two. They've been as thick as thieves this morning." She said, and we laughed. John made jokes all the time, now that they were engaged, about our last names, Holmes and Watson, and how we were already such good friends, and how quickly we bonded. We didn't mind his jokes one bit.

"Are you coming down, Elizabeth?" John asked, poking his head in.

"Nah, I'm going to stay up here." I answered, deciding to stay and talk to Tom for a while, with Mary.

"Okay." He said, disappearing again.

* * *

_Sooooo, I did some research today (look at me! Being productive!), and I figured out the Holmes baby is going to be born much earlier than I expected…_

_BUT! It will still be barrels of fun to write! I intend to add some little scenes, and definitely a lot of side remarks from Elizabeth whenever I can get them in there (getting in some boat jokes from John as well, because I feel like he would be the one to make them.)_

_I HONESTLY CAN. NOT. WAIT!_

_I am so excited, I thought about making this just one big, super long chapter, because I don't want to stop!_

_Reviews!_

:I would love the name Lillith as the name if it's a girl and Toby if it's a boy. I'm not good at all at picking names tho but you may choose on which name you like for Elizalock couple :)

~Guest

_Thank you for the suggestions! I love both of those a lot! Both of them are wonderful! Thank you!_

ive always been partial towards the name Giovanna, but that's a stretch. the poor Holmes baby. I feel like it would be just evil to name the baby James, twould be like a mini Moriarty around lol. But I'm going to go with Katherine and Jonathan, in honour of its uncle.

~Nik1804

_I love the name Katherine, and Jonathan both (and the idea of the Holmes baby being names in honor of his uncle! Super sweet!)_

_Thank you so much!_

O_O Well...I admit I may have gotten a little mini-heart attack when I saw my name and story mentioned on here. I'm surprised AND touched at the same time.

Sorry, anyway, really liking the story so far! Now I'm anticipating reading about the baby, and Sherlock's reaction to it. The way I see it, I personally think he'd actually be great with kids, because they're fresh minds that can be molded, and haven't yet been conformed to the unforgiving grip of society. So they'd understand and listen more. Plus, Sherlock with a kid just seems to add a bit more comedy with the shenanigans they'd get into. But that's just my opinion.

Also, I completely understand being worried about someone reading your internet history regarding your research. That happened to me once, unfortunately. It was quite awkward. "Mom! I swear to God, I'm not a budding serial killer! I just needed to know what happens to the human flesh after intense acid burns!" *siiiigghhh*

Now, for the baby name suggestion. I actually have a long list of baby names that I like, but if I had to only pick one per sex, it would be Gwendolyn (or Gwen for short) for a girl, and Klaus for a boy.

Keep up the good work! :)

~A.J. Parker758

_Honestly, when I read your review, I almost died! I was so excited! I'm still just….Ah! I can't believe it! Thank you so much for reviewing!_

_I am so glad you're enjoying this story, and I totally agree with you! I think he would adore kids (just look at him and Archie in The Sign of Three! He seemed to like him, a lot!), and he could teach his son/daughter all kinds of different things! I do think, though, he would try, multiple times, to try and bring the young one along with him to crime scenes, and the kidlet would try to follow daddy for career day (if there is on in the UK), which could be a problem (an adorable situation, maybe, but a problem nonetheless)._

_The name Klaus is definitely growing on me...the more I look at it, and the more I say it, the more I love it! It fits, too, because it sounds old, and a bit out of the box, which are some of the names that I'm looking for-ones you don't hear very often, and I don't think I've ever met anyone named Klaus! I like the meaning behind it as well (something else that I have been taking into consideration with some of the names). Thank you for them so much!_

the avengette:Hullo your story is awesome I am new to the sherlock fandom so i dont understand everything but awesome story

the avengette:sorry forgot to add i think Rachel or Samuel would be great just a thought if you cant decide to do a boy or girl you could do twins

_Hello, dear! Welcome to the fandom!_

"_We're all mad here'_

_I remember when I was new to the fandom, there were a ton of things I didn't understand, and if there's anything I can help clear up, please, don't hesitate to let me know! I would love to help in anyway I can!  
I love the name Samuel, I always have, and I think it would fit very well, Rachel, too! Both of them are beautiful names, with great meanings! Thank you so much!_

_PSA: Baby Holmes will be expected next chapter/chapter after next, but I am not taking any more name requests after chapter 43 is poster, so if you have any last minute ideas, please hurry and get them in, because I won't be able to NOT post for much longer!_

_Thank you guys so much!_

_~Eruaphadriel_


	43. Another Holmes

_My...effing...legs!_

_10-20 minutes into my workout, and I've already injured myself...I only did a couple of stretches, and ran and my legs are screaming for mercy, and I felt (and still kind of feel) like I was going to vomit! Took me a few minutes to get up off of the floor, and then more time to get to the shower (hobble to the shower sounds more accurate), and I laid down most of the time...in the shower._

_So now I'm in bed with ice packs on my legs and in extreme pain._

_Yay…_

_On the bright side, I'm getting some writing done! I live this chapter! Bunches of cutesy moments before Baby Holmes arrives!_

_I didn't go in the order that the episode went in, sorry about that, but it made a little more sense to me, and I like it a little more (but of course, that's just my personal opinion. :) )_

_So I LOVE the baby name! Very adorable and unique, and a thank you to the winner, or winners as I should say, since there were two, to __**Crimson Daydreamer,**_ _who came up with the first name, and to __**CheckAlexa**_ _fo_

I groaned, wanting to throw the phone across the room. Even though the phone was nowhere near my ear, I could hear my mother rambling on, and on, wanting me to come and visit before I got too big.

Thanks mom.

I balanced the phone, gently, on my ever growing stomach.

"Why don't you just hang up?" Sherlock wondered.

"She would call again, and again, and again until I did. If I didn't answer, then she would come over, and not only talk my ear off, but I'd get a nice little lecture as well, one I would love to avoid, so it's easier in the long run to answer the phone. At least then I don't actually have to listen." I answered, putting the phone on mute so she wouldn't hear me. "I don't hate her, she just talks too much."

I put the phone back on my ear, just as she was finishing her sentence.

"Wow." I said, trying to sound amused.

"I know!" She responded, excitedly. "Oh! I forgot to tell you Robin's daughter as several baby dresses. They're adorable dresses any little girl would just _die_ for, and she has more maternity clothes if you want to me send them."  
"I don't mind." I said. "Though we don't know what the gender is yet."

"Oh." She said, sadly. "Well, when will you know?"  
"Uh, well, we kind of wanted it to be a surprise."

"Really?" She asked. "Sure?" She asked.

"Pretty sure."  
"What about the nursery?" She asked. "How will you pick colors?"

"Well, we were thinking white."  
"White?" She laughed.

"And maybe a soft green? Or a blue?" I said.

"Well, I'm sure whatever you decide to do will look lovely. Will you need any help?" She asked.

"No, I'm sure we've got it." I said, picking at a nail.

"Elizabeth, you shouldn't be working." She warned.

"I'm not! John, Sherlock and Mary are doing all of the big work. I'm just making a few decisions, and doing a little painting."  
"Be careful painting-"

"I know." I said, stopping her.

"But what I meant was, I don't think it's such a good idea you working with Sherlock and John, going out and chasing killers while you're pregnant, or even after the baby is born, and I know, you're a married adult, you're going to have a child of your own in a few months, I can't really make decisions for you anymore, but, I'm just saying, I would worry a little less, and I think it would be a little safer." She explained.  
"I'm fine, and I'm not even leaving the flat...that much."

She sighed. "Alright. As long as you're staying safe." She said, thankfully mellowing out a little about the whole situation.

"I am. Promise."

"And be sure to send me picture of the nursery when it's finished!" She said, and I heard a voice in the background. "Send some to Harry as well. She's dying to see it!"

"Will do."  
We said our goodbyes, and balanced the phone on my stomach, the best that I could, giggling a little to myself.

I finally got it to balanced just right, and stared at my work, proudly, when the phone fell off, and I felt like something like a nudge on my stomach, or rather _in_ my stomach. I raised an eyebrow, and put the phone back on, and waited. I didn't have to wait long, before I felt a few more, and the phone fell off again. I laughed, and Sherlock looked at me.

"Come here!" I said, almost yelling, holding my arms in the air, waving him over, frantically, and I felt it again. I laughed.

"What's so funny?" he asked, and I grabbed his hand, putting it on my stomach.

"Wait for it." I said, staring at my stomach, while Sherlock looked at me, confused. I ignored him, and waited.

Again, it was only seconds, before I felt baby Holmes pushing back against Sherlock's hand.

"Are you doing that?" He asked.

"No! That's the baby!" I giggled, excitedly, and clapped my hands.

I used to feel light flutters, like butterflies in my stomach, which Mary said was the baby moving, but this was a definite kick, and I was beyond ecstatic.

Sherlock abandoned whatever he was working on, and I moved over on the couch, and we spent the rest of the day trying to get baby Holmes to move again.

* * *

Sleeping was a thing of the past, now.

I turned over on my side, then back on my back, and to my side again, but Baby Holmes was relentless, being sure to kick and worm around.

I got up, making sure not to wake Sherlock, and walked around the flat a bit, having read that it would help put the baby to sleep.

I did laps around the living room, rubbing my stomach as I did so, and I would be lying if I said I didn't make my way over to the fridge and grabbed a midnight snack, or two.

Once I thought Baby Holmes had settled down, I went back to bed (taking a glass of chocolate milk with me) and laid down, waiting.

When I felt nothing, I sighed, contently, and closed my eyes, careful not to move too much.

I was on the brink of a dream, when I felt it again.

"For Pete's sake!" I said, a little too loudly, causing Sherlock to wake up, and roll over, finding my glaring at my stomach.

"What's wrong?" He asked, as I was getting up, going to try walking again.

"Your son won't sleep." I answered, furious. He laid his head back on the pillow.

"I don't have a son. I _do _however have a daughter."

"Shut up." I gritted my teeth, annoyed. He sighed.

"Alright, here, stop, lay back down." He said.

"That's not going to do anything. He's still going to kick and punch all night long." I argued.

"No, she _will_ eventually get tired, but if she," I glared "or he" he added. "Is anything like their mother, I know what to do." He said getting up, just as I laid back down.

I waited, and Baby Holmes kicked again. How old do they have to be before you can ground them?

I heard footsteps, but they stopped in the hallway, stopping just in front of the door. I tried to look around, my stomach making it hard to sit up completely, but it didn't take long before I heard the first notes of 'Clair de Lune', and I laid back, praying this would work.

The baby kicked once more,surprised by the new noise, no doubt (Sherlock hadn't played his violin in ages), and then I felt nothing else and I was able to get to sleep, stay asleep, and I slept better than I had in months.

* * *

"Have you thought of names yet?" Mycroft asked as I waddled into the living room, bearing mugs of tea for him and Sherlock.

"Yup." Sherlock answered.

"Really?! What are they?"

"A surprise."

Mycroft sighed. "Well we can't just keep calling him or her 'Baby Holmes' until they're born, can we?" He asked. Sherlock looked at me and nodded.

"I'm pretty sure we can."

"To be fair, no one knows the names but us, and we're still undecided. It's nothing final. We'd have to meet him, first."

"Her." Sherlock mumbled.

"Really?"

Mycroft chuckled. Since we had told him about the baby, he was around more often, and in a much better mood than I had ever seen him in. He tried to plan a baby shower, but we were against it, neither of us being party people, or people people in general, and the stress and patience going into even being at a party and the usual aggravation I felt, mixed with being pregnant? Nuh-uh! No way!

So we settled on a small gathering with a few friends like Mary and John, Lestrade, of course, Molly, and, yes, Sarah, who brought her new boyfriend, Richard.

I was worried about introducing Sarah and Mary, and I was sure to explain everything to Mary, but she was fine with Sarah being there, and Sarah didn't mind Mary being there either, and insisted that she had moved on, though neither girl was usually seen with the other. Still, they were friendly with each other, and had a small conversation here and there, which made me smile.

Mom had made it, and was fawning over me, and was at my call. I didn't get up for anything, and every time I tried, and mom caught me, I was pushed back down again.

I was surprised I was able to get up and get Mycroft and my husband some tea.

"Well, I'm sure he'll have a lovely name." Mary said.

"See, Mary thinks it's a boy too." I said.

"Haven't you had a scan?" Mrs. Holmes asked. I nodded.

"Yeah, but we wanted it to be a surprise."

"Ah!" She sighed, smiling.

"The naming process was a bit difficult, though. Your son kept picking chemists to name the baby after."

"Why wouldn't you want to name our child, who is going to be unbelievably intelligent, after someone who made vast contributions to not only the world on science, but the world in general?" Sherlock argued. Mycroft nodded, agreeing.

"I want it to mean something." I whined.

"Every name means something."

"No I mean, I want it to mean something special, not just to you, but to me as well."

"You told me you broke your foot when you were young. Thanks to Marie Curie you were able to have an x-Ray done. Saved you weeks of hobbling around on one foot. That should mean something to you."

I looked at John, who had my feet in his lap.

"I can't win." He laughed.

"Well, really, she's not doing much else but hobbling around anyway, nowadays. She waddles around like a penguin."

He laughed, and everyone else sniggered, quietly, as mom bopped him on the back of the head.

"John Watson!" She exclaimed. "How rude! It's not her fault."

"Obviously. We can all see the obvious cause, look at her, she's like a boat!"

"Did you just call me a boat?"

I heard Sherlock hoot with laughter from his chair, Mary, Lestrade and Sarah all holding back smiles.

"Shut up, over there!" I yelled across the room, throwing a pillow hitting Sherlock in the side of the face.

"Now that u have nothing to do but throw pillows at him, my aim has gotten tremendously better." I commented to Lestrade, who was seated in the chair beside the door. He smiled, holding out a hand, and I handed him one of the pillows my mother and Mrs. Holmes had shoved underneath me.

He chucked it across the room, but instead of hitting Sherlock, he missed and got Mycroft in the back of the head. Sherlock's face was red.

"Children having a child." Mycroft muttered. "Adults who need adult supervision." He shook his head, then looked to his mother.

"Are you sure you want to go back to touring America? I'm sure they'll keep you busy if you stay." She scoffed.

"I'm sure they'll be fine on their own." She said.

Mary was the first to suggest gifts, and pulled Sherlock to the couch to sit beside me, as we opened them together.

I smiled, grabbing the one from his parents first, which was filled with an adorable blanket, a few bibs and burp rags, and a rattle, all of which would match the room perfectly.

"I love this." I smiled, unfolding the blanket, which had Holmes embroidered in the corner.

"We figured you could add his or her name above it, if you'd like." Mrs. Holmes suggested.

Moms was next, a bag full of the cutest little stuffed animals, small, yet adorable.

I gasped. "We could put these in the shelf. The one above the crib!" I said, excitedly. "We've been looking for something to put there for ages!"

She also got a baby carrier, which would definitely come in handy, that was aqua and grey, with stripes, and some toys, and pacifiers, which was perfect.

Next was John and Mary, who had gotten a highchair, which matches the carried (they collaborated a bit, Mary told me), and a few gender neutral onesies, each one a different color.

Lestrade got some super cute huggable pacifiers, the pacifiers, instead of a small handle, had an adorable stuffed animal.

I loved them!

Sarah and Richard brought something as well, a diaper bag, which looked like a purse, and a bottle warmer which kept water warm all day, once you put t in the flask.

I held up the diaper bag with a small smile.

"So, whenever you hold the baby bag," he nodded knowing where this was going. "It'll look like you're carrying a fancy ladies purse instead." Sherlock glared at me, then to SarH.

"Thanks." He said, jokingly. She laughed.

"Absolutely no problem."

We gorged ourselves on cake, and all of us sat and talked until late-way past our normal bedtime, and I was falling asleep on Sherlock's shoulder, unintentionally. I only closed my way for a second, and when I opened them, everyone was gone, and Sherlock wa texting a 'Thank you' to everyone.

"Where did they go?" I asked.

"Hmm? Oh they left a few minutes ago. We tried to wake you up, but you were out." He said.

"Oh. I feel awful." I groaned.

"Why?"

"I feel asleep. They did such a nice thing for us, brought cake, and spent a lot of money on gifts, and I feel asleep on them."

Sherlock laughed. "Darling, you're pregnant. Not only that, but you've been up in your feet most of the day, and it's been an exciting day. I highly doubt anyone minded. And it was getting late, you're usually not awake at this time."

"You made sure to tell them that, though, didn't you?" I said. "I don't want it to seem like I was being rude, or that I was bored, because I wasn't."

"Yes, I made sure they knew." He said.

"Okay." I yawned, getting up from the couch, slowly, my ankles popping as I did so, and walking towards the bedroom.

"Goodnight." I called from the hallway.

I climbed into bed, my eyes already closed, and I heard Sherlock playing 'Clair de Lune', something he had begun to do every night, and the one thing that kept the baby from kicking me awake every ten minutes.

* * *

**"****Need to work on your half of the church, Mary." Sherlock said. Mary and John had come over, asking us to help with the wedding planning. I was excited. It gave me something to do, rather than sit around the flat all day.**

"Ah, orphan's lot. Friends-that's all I have. Lots of friends." She answered, sorting through a couple of papers.

"Schedule the organ music to begin at precisely 11:48." Sherlock mumbled.

"Sherlock, sweetie, the rehearsal isn't for another two weeks. Calm down." I said, turning my head a little to look at him.

"Calm? I am calm. I'm extremely calm."

"Let's get back to the reception, come on." I said, leaning over as best as I could to pull out another chair beside me for Sherlock.

"Here's a cousin. Top table?" Mary asked, handing me a RSVP card with the name of my least favorite cousin. I wrinkled my nose. She was going to be there with her nasty husband...great.

At least now she won't comment about me being single. And I've one-upped her. I have a baby!

"Hmm. Hates you. Can't even bear to think about you." Sherlock said, as I handed him the card to add to the others.

"Seriously?" Mary asked.

"Second class post, cheap card, bought at the petrol station. look at the stamp: three attempts at licking. She's obviously unconsciously retaining saliva." He answered.

Mary only smiled. "Ah, let's stick her by the bogs."

I laughed.

"Who else hates me?" Mary asked, leaning closer, and Sherlock handed her a sheet of paper.

"Oh great, thanks." She said. I looked at Sherlock.

"IS there anyone in your family that hates me?" I asked. He didn't answer. "Sherlock?"  
"Not at all. My parents adore you, as do my aunts and uncles."

"What about everyone else.?"  
"My cousin Charlotte isn't your biggest fan."

"Knew it." I whispered. She always avoided me at family events, if we ever went. Not that I made any effort to talk to her, but whenever I entered the room, she made a point to stay on the other side.

"Priceless painting nicked. Looks interesting." John said, staring at his phone.

"Table four…" Mary trailed off.

"Done."

"'My husband is three people.'"John read off from his phone again.

"Table five."

"Major James Sholto. Who he?" Sherlock asked, looking at the list.

"Oh, John's old commanding officer. I don't think he's coming.

"He'll be there. " John said from his chair.

"Well he needs to RSVP then."

"He'll be there." Mary only hummed. "'My husband is three people'. It's interesting. Says he has three distinct patterns of moles in his skin.

"Identical triplets." Sherlock said, quickly. "One in half a million births, solved it without even leaving the flat, now, serviettes." She stood, up, then squatted beside the coffee table, pulling a tray out from underneath it.

"Swan or Sydney Opera House?" He asked, gesturing to the two serviettes on the tray.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" Mary asked.

"Many unexpected skills required in the field of criminal investigation…"

"Fibbing, Sherlock." Mary said, unamused.

"I once broke an alibi by demonstrating the exact severity of…"

"I'm not John, I can tell when you're fibbing."

"Okay- I learned it on YouTube."

I smiled. So that's what he's been doing all this time…

"Opera House, please." She leaned over, reaching into her pocket.

"Oh, hang on, I'm buzzing." She lifted it to her ear.

"Hello?" She paused. "Oh, hi, Beth!" She stood up, heading for the kitchen, and John stood to follow. "Yeah, yeah, don't see why not."

"Actually, if that's Beth, it's probably for me too. Hang on." John said, going to the kitchen.

I knew what was going on, Mary and I had talked about it, and we were trying to get John to take Sherlock out on a case, run him before they got married, show him it was still the good ol' days, because Sherlock was terrified, and John couldn't see it. When Sherlock and I got married, of course, in private, he made sure of every single detail, organizing it all, but, this time, he is organizing the hell out of this wedding, almost like Mycroft had done for Sherlock and I, and I could tell, though he would never say it, that he was afraid John getting married was going to change things, and he didn't like that thought one bit.

So he kept himself preoccupied, and with this wedding and the baby due any day now, he didn't have to try very hard to stay busy at all.

I leaned my head back, and closed my eyes.

"You alright?" Sherlock asked. I nodded a little.

"Exhausted. Miserable. But I'll be alright." I said, keeping my eyes shut, nodding off a little.

I heard footsteps from the kitchen, and then Sherlock speaking. "That just sort of...happened."

John only smiled at his friend, before looking to me.

"Beth wanted to talk to you as well." He said. I nodded, getting up, and waddling to the kitchen.

Mary had put her phone down, off of her ear, and on the table, where she sat, perched on the corner, and sighed.

"Do you think he's going to be able to get him out?" Mary asked. I nodded.

"Won't be easy, but that's definitely what they're talking about now." I said leaning back a little to see what was going on. John was sitting across from Sherlock, and was handing him his phone.

"You did talk to him, didn't you?" Mary asked.

"Of course." I said. She grinned.

"Good. You holding up?" She said, as I pulled out a chair, and sat in it, sighing in relief.

"No. Not really." She giggled a little.

"They should be done." She said, grabbing her phone, and putting it back up to her ear.

"Bye." She said as we walked out of the kitchen, and Sherlock and John were heading for the door.

"Er, we're just going to...I need, um, Sherlock to help me choose some, er, socks."  
"...ties." Sherlock answered, both of them at the same time.

"Why don't we go with socks?" Mary suggested.

"Yeah."

"I mean, you've got to get the right ones."

"Exactly." John answered. "To go with my…"  
"Tie." Sherlock answered again, just as John said, "...outfit."

"That'll take a while, right?" Mary asked.

"My coat in there?" John asked, pointing to the kitchen.

"Yes!"

He walked into the kitchen, and Sherlock took a step closer.

"Just going to take him out for a but-run him." He said, quietly.

"I know." I smiled. "You said you would find him a new case."

"Come on, Sherlock." John called from the kitchen, shrugging his coat on. Sherlock glanced at me.

"Will you be alright?" He asked, worried. I smiled, and nodded.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. And if anything happens, Mary will be here."

"I'll take good care of her, Sherlock." Mary promised from behind me.

"Thank you." He said to her, and kissed my on the forehead, one hand on my stomach.

"Be careful."

"Always am." He smiled, going out of the front door, both him and John giving Mary and I a thumbs up. We both smiled, giving them a thumbs up back, before they left. Mary turned to me, and grinned.

"Alright, come on. No more wedding planning. I brought movies."

"You're a Saint!" I exclaimed, as she pulled some movies from her bag, and I closed the curtains.

Sherlock, throughout this whole experience, had been calm, and never seemed to worry, but the bigger I got, the more he began to hover.

Not that I didn't mind, though. I loved having him home more. He wasn't taking as many cases, just the occasional trip out with Lestrade here and there, and he wasn't letting anyone into the flat, asking Mrs. Hudson to either get them to leave, or if they persisted, he would go down himself.

"There might be one or two interesting ones you're missing out on, though." I said, and I hated that he was. He only shrugged.

"This is more important." he smiled.

Of course, that's how it started.

With nothing else to do, he nose was stuck in pregnancy books, or on his phone, on a pregnancy website. He had even called hi

s mother a time or two (more like fifteen times, but who's really counting) asking for her advice.

I can't complain there, either, because all of the advice he had given me and read, was very helpful. My legs and ankles weren't as sore, migraines were coming less and less often, I wasn't sick to my stomach, and my feet didn't look as swollen (although, I knew they were.) My hands and legs had stopped tingling…

It wasn't long afterwards, I began calling Mrs. Holmes as well. Everytime she would only laugh, lightheartedly, and give me the best remedy.

But, when it got to the point, I could get up without Sherlock being at my elbow to help me, or even go to the grocery store without him (which was very rare-usually he skipped the store whenever he could), I became annoyed.

I understood, completely, that he was worried, for me, and, more importantly, for the baby's safety, and I was happy that he was, _lucky_ that he was, and that he wanted to help in every possible was they he could. It was sweet, in a way (and I was glad he was going to the store with me, in some ways...helps ward of the belly-rubbers…).

But I needed my space.

* * *

"What about pizza?" Mary asked, flipping through a menu, trying to find some lunch for the both of us.

"I'm not in the mood for pizza, really." I answered, wrinkling my nose. She pursed her lips, closing the first menu, and picking up another.

"Chinese?" She wondered.

"Sounds amazing." I said, excited.

She flipped through the menu some more, trying to find something that sounded good.

"What do you want?"

"Anything is fine with me." I said.

She asked about certain items, wondering if I was going to object (which wasn't going to happen. I was starving!), and called in the order.

We finished the move, and Mary stood up to get another.

"Alright, what movie's next?" She asked, standing up.

I was going to answer, but stopped, squirming around a little from the pain in my lower abdomin, almost like a menstrual cramp.

"Are you done with movies? We could go through those Disney movies you got for Christmas." Mary suggested, grabbing the box I had brought from the bedroom, and shuffling through s one of the movies. I squirmed again, but the pain hadn't gone away.

"'The Jungle Book'? 'Cinderella'?"

I moved, and stopped.

Shit.

"Mary." I said.

"'Snow White' was always a favorite of mine."

Shit!

"Mary." I said, louder this time, as the doorbell rang.

"That'll be the food. I'll go get it." She smiled, and left.

"Mary!" I called as she disappeared down the stairs.

Shit!

The pain had subsided, but my discomfort didn't.

"Mary Elizabeth!" I screamed. She ran up the stairs, bags in hand.

"I'm going as fast as I can, Liz, promise."

"That's not what I want." I said through my teeth.

"What's wrong?" She asked, but I didn't have to say anything before her eyes widened.

"Oh."

"My water broke."

* * *

"I've called him."

"Where the hell is he?" I asked. Mary had rushed me to the hospital, driving as fast as she could through London traffic.

"He didn't answer."

"He didn't?!"

"He's probably still investigating, calm down." Mary said, putting a hand on my shoulder, trying to stay calm herself. I could've slapped her. I really wanted to. I almost did.

"Really?" I asked, glaring. She brought a hand to her mouth, looking at me apologetically.

"Sorry. But you do. Just breath."

"What do you think I'm doing?"

"Elizabeth Holmes this is no time to be smarting off." She said, like a mother would.

I moaned, my lower abdomin beginning to hurt more and more.

"Call John."

"I tried. And Greg." She said.

"I'm not doing this without Sherlock."

"Doll, I don't think you're going to have much of a choice."

She said, as a doctor came in, smiling. She only got a few steps in, before she was pushed out of the door way.

"Ah, you got my message, then." Mary said, Sherlock practically running across the room, John and Lesteade, who had more than likely gotten Mary's message as well, and was more than likely there when they got the call, only a few paces behind him.

I had Mary to my right, and Sherlock to my left, both of them holding my hands, while John and Lestrade stood next to Sherlock, John's hand on my knee, asking if I was alright.

I only nodded, not liking the attention from the four people in the room, and not to mention, all of the other doctors that would be rushing in.

John and Lestrade were ushered out of the room, John leaving reluctantly, while Sherlock and Mary stayed, both of them giving me words of encouragement, Sherlock using a cold hand to brush back some of my unruled you fringe, something that had become a habit of his the past several months, and something that I was truly grateful for in that moment.

But, of course, he still said _she_ when referring to the baby, and Mary would say _he_, beginning their argument over the gender.

While I was in labor.

_Thanks, guys…_

* * *

I heard a cry, and went to sit up, quickly, before Sherlock and Mary pushed me back down, telling me they would bring the baby to me after they got the baby cleaned up, neither of them knowing the baby's gender.

I waited, glaring at all of the doctors, wanting to see my baby right then, but they didn't bring baby Holmes when I asked.

I hugged, knowing it was no use to argue with them.

It even a minute later, I saw a nurse with a bundle of blankets in her arms, and I shot you, ignoring Mary and Sherlock's protests, and the pain, and held my arms out, already bawling.

She nurse smiled, placing the bundle in my arms.

"Congratulations." She smiled, helping me lay back down a little.

"Boy or girl?" Mary asked, quickly.

"It's a girl."

I didn't even glacé at Sherlock to know that he was beaming, partially because he was right.

He sat down, carefully, on the bed, looking over my shoulder.

"What are you going to name her?" I can't remember if it was Mary or the nurse who asked, or maybe it was Sherlock. I just stared at the tiny girl in my arms, her tiny fingers barely visible under the blanket, her little nose, and ears.

"Ophelia." I answered.

"Ophelia what?" Mary asked. We hadn't talked a lot about middle names.

"Rosalind?" Sherlock suggested. This time I did look away from our daughter to look up at him.

"After Rosalind Franklin?" I wondered. He didn't say anything.

"You're not giving up, are you."

"Ophelia Rosalind. It's original."

"It's a mouthful." I looked back at Ophelia, who yawned.

"I've always liked the name Mary, but, that's just me." Mary commented.

"You're right. That is you." Sherlock said, and she laughed.

"Marie?"Sherlock suggested.

"Marie Curie?"

"Look, it fits." Sherlock argued. "You got to name her after your grandmother. You picked the first name."

"Alright. It _is_ pretty." I agreed, moving back some of the blanket with my finger to see her better. Her hair was blond like mine, but just as curly as Sherlock's-hopefully something that would never change. I tried getting Sherlock to grow his out once, just to see what he would look like. He made sure to get his haircut the next day.

"I'll go tell the boys." Mary said, placing a quick kiss to my cheek, and congratulating us both.

"Do you want to hold her?" I asked Sherlock.

He nodded, and I moved over as much as I could without jostling Ophelia so that he could sit down beside me, lying back against the bed, which had been propped up, almost like the back of a chair.

I placed the tiny girl into her father's waiting arms, and she wiggled around, before getting comfortable, and going still again.

Neither of us said anything, we just stared at her, Sherlock moving the blanket back with his fingers, to look at hers, all ten fingers, all of them so tiny it was almost unreal.

She stretched them out, before latching onto Sherlock's pinkie, and he waved it around a bit, gently, almost as if he were trying to shake her off, but when I looked up at him, he was smiling down at her, and he sniffled.

"No shame in crying." I said, wiping some of my own tears away.

I placed my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes, and I felt Sherlock place a quick kiss to my forehead.

"Thank you." He murmured, and I fell asleep, a smile on my face.

* * *

I woke up in a hospital room, Sherlock and Ophelia both gone. I shot up, panicked, looking all around the room, but a cold hand caught my shoulder.

"Calm down, dear." Mrs. Holmes said, and I turned to find her in the rocking chair beside the bed, holding Ophelia, rocking her back and forth, my mother in the recliner, which had been pulled up beside the chair, so she would see the baby. I calmed down a bit.

"She was starting to fuss a bit, so we thought we would try to calm her down, so she wouldn't wake you." Mom explained.

"Thank you." I nodded, laying back down. "Where's Sherlock?"

"He and John went to get something to eat. They should be back anytime now." Mrs. Holmes said, then looked back at Ophelia. "She's beautiful." She whispered. Ophelia's little hands popped up over the blanket, her legs wiggling around, as if she were trying to run. I giggled. "Where did you come up with the names?" Mrs. Holmes asked.

"Well, Ophelia was my grandmother's name. I always loved it as a kid-didn't want to call her anything else. And I was talking to a friend, though, an old one, and she reminded me of it. Said it sounded a bit old-fashioned, which is what we were looking for."

"And Marie?"

"That would be your son. He won. He got to name her after a chemist." She chuckled.

"Sounds like something he would do." She admitted, nodding her head.

The door opened, but instead of Sherlock and John, it was Mr. Holmes, who smiled at me, and then immediately walked over to his granddaughter, grinning from ear to ear.

"Hello." He said, to her, quietly, leaning over his wife's shoulder to look at her. She only stared back at him, her legs going still. "Hello, Ophelia."

She gurgled a little, and they both smiled.

"She's going to be smart, I can tell. A heart-breaker, too." He said to me. I only grinned.

Sherlock, Mycroft, and John came in next, Mycroft and John, subtly, demanding to see their niece.

Mrs. Holmes offered Ophelia out to them, but I had expected John to be the first in line, not Mycroft.

He dropped his umbrella, without ceremony, and held out his arms. Mrs. Holmes, carefully, placed her in his arms, and I could tell he was nervous, never had held a baby before, according to Sherlock, but he was doing well.

Once he was comfortable, and he thought no one was looking, I saw him take a spare hand, and, quickly, wipe a tear from his cheek, then look back at Ophelia, smiling. He glanced up, though, and caught me watching. I smirked as his smile fell, and he glared at me, the usual bored expression back on his face. It was kind of comical, really. Him standing so straight, looking so bored, with a baby in his arms. I held back a laugh, and turned my head, trying to catch up with the conversation Mom, Mrs. Holmes, and Sherlock (surprisingly) were having.

John, though, didn't hold back his tears. He waited until everyone had gone home to hold her. Sherlock had fallen asleep in the chair, and Mary went home for the evening, having driven a different vehicle than he had. He sat on the edge of the bed, holding her, a tear here and there. I put a hand on his shoulder, trying to console him the best I could.

"I'm proud of you, Liz." He said.

"Thank you."

"Seeing how far you've come, how much you've changed. A few years ago you were a little lost puppy without a job, or a house, confused, a little sad, worse for wear. Now you've graduated, you're married, and you're a mom, and you're happy. At least you better be."

"I'm extremely happy." I nodded.

"Good." He laughed, and Ophelia gurgled again. "She doesn't fuss much, does she."

I shook my head. She had only fussed a whenever she was hungry, or needed a diaper changed. Other than that, she was almost silent, watching everything, taking in her surroundings.

"No. Hopefully it stays this way." I nodded. John chuckled.

"It' won't." he said.

"A girl can dream, right."

He looked at me. "Alright, well, I'm going to go home before I get too tired." I stretched my arms out, hoping he would hand her to me, and he did with a laugh. "Seems like everyone has held her more than you have today." He said. I only nodded, leaning back again into the mattress.

He gave me a small, one arms hug, without squishing the baby, and said he would be by to check on my sometime tomorrow, before leaving us alone in the room.  
The only light in the room was a small table lamp on the other side, and I could hear Sherlock's soft snoring from the corner. I laid Ophelia on my chest, and very lightly smoothed back a couple of curls on her head, watching the television, which was only playing an infomercial on mute. Still, it was calming.

I felt my eyes shut, but I forced them open, wanting to put Ophelia back in the bayonet before I went to sleep.

I took an extra pillow, and threw it across the room, hitting Sherlock in the face. He sat up quickly, disoriented, looking around for the source, before looking at me, confused, and looking a little betrayed.

"Did you throw a pillow at me?" he asked.

"Hey, could you put her in the bayonet?" I asked. He nodded, walking over, and lifting her from my chest, putting her to bed, the blankets up to her chin.

"You don't have to sleep in that recliner, you know." I said, moving over, and patting the bed beside me. "Can't be comfortable."

He laid down beside me without protest, kicking off his shoes, closing his eyes instantly.

As I was getting comfortable again, something caught my eye, and I looked over Sherlock, finding flowers on the nightstand.

"Who are those from?" I asked.

"Hmm?"

"The flowers."

"What flowers?" He followed my gaze, turning, but trying not to fall off the bed. "Oh, those." He rolled back over. "Cam, or something. Figured it was someone you knew."

I shook my head. "I don't know anyone names Cam. Initials, maybe? One of mom's friends, probably." He shrugged a shoulder.

"No idea."

I sighed. "I'll ask mom sometime." I yawned, falling asleep.

* * *

I carried Ophelia to Mrs. Hudson's while Sherlock carried our bags, and the gifts that had been brought to the hospital-baby clothes, and blankets, those sort of things-upstairs.

"Oh, there you are!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed as she opened the door, grabbing my face, gently, kissing my cheek, before looking down at Ophelia.

"Elizabeth, she's just a doll!"

"Isn't she?"

"I'm so excited about the baby, I couldn't wait! I wanted to go and see you in the hospital, but my hip hasn't been letting me do too much, lately."  
"I understand."

"Oh, come in, come in!" She ushered me inside to the living room. She sat on the couch beside me, staring at Ophelia.

"I always wanted children."

"Why didn't you have any?"

"Frank didn't want kids. Said they were too noisy, and messy. Too much of a responsibility, and, frankly, the way things turned out, I'm glad we didn't." She whispered, as if Frank was going to hear her from his grave in Florida. From what she had told me about him in the past, it wouldn't surprise me if he had heard it. I almost feared for her.

"Can't say I disagree with him." Sherlock said, a plate with a slice of cake in his hand, his mouth full.

"What do you mean you 'can't say you disagree'?" I asked. "And did you take that from Mrs. Hudson's fridge? Without asking?"  
"I just meant I agree. They're a responsibility." I glared. "And they're noisy and messy...in the best way possible."  
"Okay, and what about the cake?" I said, Mrs. Hudson was glaring at him, too.

M"Mrs. Hudson, may I have some cake?"

She turned to me. "Never mind. I do have a child, and congratulations on your second."

* * *

_Gonna stop it there, because I felt like it was a great place to stop PLUS I haven't gotten a lot done...and this is 17 pages long *gulp*_

_WE HAVE BABY HOLMES!_

_I decided on the name Ophelia, because:_

_1-it wasn't a name I had really heard before, and for some reason that really stuck with me._

_2- it sounded old_

_And 3- it can be shortened to Lia a nickname which I really like._

_I choose Marie, because it fit, but because I agree with CheckAlexa: I think Sherlock would want to name her after a chemist...Why wouldn't he? So she suggested that one!_

_Congratulations to __**Crimson Daydreamer **__and __**CheckAlexa**__! You guys won (Whoop Whoop!)_

_You both can either:_

_1-give main plot for the next chapter/ next one shot _

_2-get a sneak peek into the next chapter_

_or_

_3-get's to write a scene for the next chapter, or the whole chapter, if they would rather (it was done before, and it was really neat working with her!)_

_Or you can come up with one of their own._

_I'm only going to do a few reviews, nothing with other names because I want to cry looking at them...honestly this was one of the hardest decisions I had ever had to make, but I will be answering some, very vaguely._

_**To: Guest**_

**I would love for them to be twin boys or just one boy. Twins would be hilarious because it would be double the intelligence. They'll be hard to distinguish and imagine one be in taught by Mycroft as his heir and in the future, they could each pretend to be the other to get into places. Twins facing each other on two chairs having a deduction battle by the fire place, a mirror. **

**I really like the name Sherrinford. It could be like sherlock honoring his oldest brother. Sherrinford Hamish Holmes. Jonathan is great too although unique names do seem to be more present in the Holmes family. Ryker, Dorian, Declan, Alec are other boy names I found. **

**If it's a girl, I have a feeling she would be like girly and dressy in her style. Analia and Serenity are names I though we old be nice. I feel like the girl would stick closer to mommy!Elizabeth for some reason. **

**I imagine that Elizabeth puts an age limit like "Sherlock, no crime scenes until they're at least 8!" And once they reach it or Sherlock breaks it, he takes them to a crime scene and tells them to try and deduce what happens. Then the police watch as this little child/children deuces so much while trying to pronounce these grown up words. Lestrade's torn in the background whether to be proud or to stop it and call Elizabeth.**

_**Doing reviews for this chapter is going to be hard.**_

_**Your review really changed a LOT in this story, and I honestly had a little breakdown, because twins would be SOOOO cute! I'm honestly STILL heartbroken, and trying to decide if I want to change it…**_

_**Thank you for creating innertermoil ;)**_

_**I might, though, use it in another story, perhaps a one-shot (not related to Another Watson, of course), or if i ever decide to write another Sherlock fanfiction.**_

_**Thank you for your suggestions, though, I love them!**_

_**And I totally agree on the crime scenes! Elizabeth, Would, Die! if she found out Sherlock had taken little Ophelia to a crime scene without her consent, and if she was too young. And I agree that Lestrade would be torn (this idea had me rolling with laughter, by the way! Love it!)**_

_**Thank you, again, so, so much!**_

) I am loving how you are beginning to branch out to your own narrative! Elizabeth has such a cool story that is worth telling, so it's great when she has a role! Are you planning on making a sequel to this story? If you do, you could call it "Another Holmes". That would be pretty cute. But it's up to you. Maybe just use it as the chapter title or whatever when baby Holmes is born. I feel like Sherlock would want to name any of his children after famous chemists, like Marie Currie or Rosalind Franklin or Dmitri Mendeleev or Robert Boyle, because that's just the sort of person he is. Elizabeth would probably want to name the kid something more personal and sentimental. *sighs* they are just too sweet. Anyways, love this chapter and can't wait until the next one! Lots of Love, CheckAlexa

_I'm glad you like it, and now that baby Holmes is here, I think there is going ot be a lot more branching out, which I'm excited about!_

_I actually DID think about making a sequel, but with it only being the third season, there wouldn't be a whole lot there, and since we've already started the third season, I thought it would just be easier if I kept going with this one, but I did use the chapter title, and I MIGHT make one for season four (when it comes out), and maybe The Abominable Bride…? I don't know if I'm going to tackle that yet or not. I might._

_I LOVE the idea with the chemists, thank you for that! And thank you for the names, as well! I love the name Marie (that's my mom's middle name), and it fit perfectly! Thank you again!_

The Avengette:Hullo me again i got most of the characters down but i'm still fuzzy on who Moriarty is :/ if you could explain thank you! :) (the insanity is slowly taking over mwhaha)

_Ah, Moriarty….He's a criminal mastermind (The Napoleon of Crime, as Sherlock calls him) and Sherlock's arch-nemesis. He is a 'consulting criminal', just like Sherlock is a consulting detective. _

_I hope some of that cleared it up a bit, but if you still have questions, please ask, and I'll try to explain a little better :)_

_I didn't do reviews for the ones that had just name suggestions, but thank you all SO much for sending them in! I loved ALL of the names so much!_

_~Eruaphadriel_


	44. Chapter 44

_I'm back. I feel like I haven't written in forever, but I have…? I don't know._

_So, I'll be really busy this past week, like, insanely busy, with school, and after school things, so I won't get a lot of writing done, which sucks because I'm stoked about it, but I don't want to stay up until four in the morning (like I did last night) worrying about school work, so all of that is getting done this week, and I'll be FREE!...kinda…._

_Also, I've got all of my 'Another Watson' draft chapters, and all of the little organizers I've made, and the playlist I have created while writing this story into a folder, which is growing so much, and I am so excited about it, I don't know why, but it's coming together, and has actually been really helpful! Going back to see what I've done, without having to exit out of this document, and go to another document, so if you're writing a story, and that's something you're thinking about trying, do it! I highly recommend it, and I'm going to, now, start a folder for future stories...more organized, and I feel a little better about what I write if I do it that way…_

_Okay, can we talk about ships for a second...one in particular...Gwen and Arthur from 'Merlin'?_

_I was up at three in the morning, and *Spoilers* they were having a conversation, and I kept whispering to myself "God, Arthur you buffoon, just tell her you love her. We all know that you do. It's so obvious. Now's your chance...kiss her! Kiss her, kiss her…" and things along those lines (I was getting a little fed up, especially when Merlin interrupted the first time they were going to kiss)_

_And when they did...I had to pause it. I was jumping up and down on my bed, trying not to wake my family up, jumping all around my room, silently screaming "Yes! Yes! He did it! Finally! Yes! Yes!" Over and over again…._

_I got less than 45 hours of sleep last night…._

_But it was worth it….even thought I was falling asleep in class, and I'm doing good sitting up on my own at the moment._

_But I thought I would get a short little something up, while I can, so here I am, and here we go!_

_Geronimo!_

Ophelia stared around the room, as if she had never seen it before, and it was the most interesting thing in the world to her, as she Laid on Sherlock's chest. She had woken up in the wee hours of the morning, as she usually did, but Sherlock and I would never know she was awake, if she hadn't thrown her pacifier out of the crib we kept in our room for now, and hit the window with it, scaring up both half to death.

She was always quiet, and hardly ever woke us up crying and screaming. She was very observant as well, her pale eyes scanning every inch of the bedroom, before looking back to Sherlock, who smiled at his daughter lazily, and she wiggled and gurgled, her eyes wide, as if she was just _dying_ to tell him everything she had seen on the ceiling. He only chuckled a little, and she reached a hand up to his face, hitting his nose like a car horn. After she put her hand down, Sherlock held a finger up, and tapped her nose gently. She stared at him, as if he had startled her, before reaching up a hand again.

"I think she wants your hair." I commented as Ophelia kept reaching up. Sherlock bent his head down as best as he could so that Ophelia could reach his curls, and she pulled one, then another, watching as they straightened out, then curled again as soon as she released them.

"Ow!" Sherlock exclaimed as she pulled one a little too hard. I reached over, unwrapping her tiny fingers from around his hair, and he brought his head back up, glaring at her. She, of course, only stared back at him, studying him.

I chuckled. "What time is it?" I asked.

"Almost seven."

"We've been up with her for three hours?" I asked, surprised. Didn't seen that long at all.

"It would appear so." He said. Ophelia brought her legs up, and closed her eyes, her head tucked comfortably underneath his chin while he rubbed her small back with the tips of his fingers, her legs and arms tucked underneath her, like a little turtle. "We don't have anything to do today, do we?" He wondered.

"John's stag night is tonight. You have to go to it." I reminded him.

He hummed, obviously not pleased. "Did Molly get all of that..._math_ that you asked her to do?" She had complained, over the phone, about it all, though she said that she didn't mind-gave her something to do. It was just a lot of work.

"Yup." He answered, quietly.

"She didn't appreciate that, by the way." I said. "Why couldn't you have done it? You're a graduate chemist."

He shrugged, and I sighed. "Alright, well, I have to get ready."

"No, what for?" he whinned.

"Mary and I are going shopping today. We're going to buy some baby clothes for Ophelia-little dresses, and outfits. You can come if you want. Might get some toys and lunch too, while we're out." I explained, gathering some clothes and a towel. "Unless you guys want to spend some father-daughter time together.  
He shrugged as best as he could, and shook his head. "I wouldn't mind watching her for a day. You need to get out, anyway. Might be good for you."  
"That's what Mary said." I said, feeling my stomach drop, utterly terrified.

I spent most of my time in the shower, and getting ready, thinking about leaving Ophelia behind. I was stressed out about it, yet I wasn't even out of the flat yet. What if something happened? Good, or bad-doesn't matter, I want to be there…

I walked into the living room before realising that Sherlock hadn't come out of the bedroom yet. I walked down the hallway, going to ask if he wanted some coffee, if he was even awake, he wasn't in there.

I snuck up the stairs to Ophelia's room, which was John's old one, stopping at the door when I heard Sherlock talking. I peeked around the door to find him redressing her, after changing her diaper, I imagine, and talking to her softly.

"...mommy's leaving us all alone today." He complained. I held back a laugh, as Ophelia cooed, and Sherlock nodded. "I know. I don't want her to go. I'm rubbish at this." She cooed again, as if she were answering him. It was adorable, really. Where she was usually very quiet, when Sherlock spoke to her, she would make little noises. He could get her to 'talk' and coo. Mycroft and I joked that she was talking to him, and, sometimes, making fun of him. Sherlock would glare at us, that time. "So, Miss Ophelia, what shall we do today?" He asked her. "Your mother would throw a fit if I were to bring you on a case." She whinned a little. "I know it _is_ interesting, and your mother is crazy, but we have to at least obey _that_ rule. We can break all of the rest of them. Maybe in a year or so, I can bring you along."

"More like ten years. And 'mommy's crazy'?" I asked, stepping into the bedroom.

"See, she is crazy." He said to Ophelia.

"Already trying to get our daughter to go against me, eh?" I asked, picking her up, smiling at her.

"No, just telling the truth." He said. I sighed, glaring at me.

"Alright. Remember-" He cut me off.

"Elizabeth, I remember. I promise. And John will be here, Mrs. Hudson is down stairs. We'll be fine. Go and have fun." He said, and Mary honked from outside. I hesitated, almost going down there just to tell her that I changed my mind, but I handed Ophelia to Sherlock after kissing her forehead, and leaving.

"Oh, this one is adorable!" Mary said, holding up a tiny pastel blue dress. I nodded, my fingers wrapping around my phone, tempted to dial Sherlock's number and make sure everything was going alright. Mary, of course, had sensed my concern and tried to reassure me that everything was fine.

"He'll call if he needs anything. You know he will." She had said. I only nodded, hoping she was right.

"Elizabeth." She said, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Yes?"  
"What do you think? She held the dress back up.

"It's cute."

"Yes?"

"Yes." I said, and she added it into the basket with a smile, and moved on to another rack.

I checked my phone for any messages, and decided to text Sherlock, asking him if everything was going okay.

That simple act seemed to really calm some of my nerves, but I wasn't able to stay still, wringing my hands, and swaying...Mary had caught me a few times and scolded me for it, telling me to have a little faith, but it wasn't easy being away from Ophelia for so long, since I've been with her without a break these past couple of weeks.

My phone dinged, and I hurried to check it.

**FROM: Sherlock**

**Everything is fine. Promise. Enjoy your break while you can.**

**SH**

My phone dinged again, and I opened the message, hoping, maybe, for a further explanation, but instead it was a picture from John, who had stayed with Sherlock and Ophelia, showing Sherlock sitting in the floor of the living room, Ophelia lying on a blanket in front of him while he held up toys, playing with her. The picture was obviously taken without Sherlock knowing, and John continued to take them, every picture easing my nerves more and more…

When Mary dropped me off, Sherlock and John had already left, leaving Ophelia at Mrs. Hudson's. I put everything in Ophelia's room that was hers before walking down to get her, eager to see my daughter, as if I hadn't seen her in months.

She had fallen asleep at Mrs. Hudson's, Mrs. H had laid her on her bed, pillows surrounding her so she wouldn't fall, and I thought I was going to be able to make it up the stairs without her waking up, but I was mistaken. The very last step, right before the landing to her room, she stirred in my arms, staring at me with large teary eyes, her lips turned down in a frown, ready to cry.

"Okay." I said, pushing the door open, and making my way to the rocking chair beside the window.

She only whimpered a little as we started rocking, but eventually calmed down, looking around the room. I smoothed back her blond curls, a bit of a habit of mine now, waiting for her to fall back to sleep.

I was zoning out myself, trying not to fall asleep with Ophelia, in fear that I might drop her, while still trying to get her to sleep herself.

I was startled, though, by what sounded like the front door opening and shutting, and pairs of footsteps, heavy footsteps, unlike Sherlock and John's. These were uneven, and stomping about downstairs.

Worried, I listened closely, not wanting to leave Ophelia alone in her room, but not wanting to take her with me, either.

I made a quick decision, putting Ophelia in her crib, wrapping her in a blanket, and surrounding her with some stuffed animals, grabbing the baby monitor on my way out, turning it down low.

I walked down stairs to the first landing, hearing two men speaking, and I was terrified, but laughed at what I found.

Sherlock and John passed out at the bottom of the staircase. My hand shot to my mouth, trying to hold back my laughter.

"...and I can't even remember what for….crime or s...something." Sherlock slurred to John.

I heard Mrs. Hudson's door open and she walked out, catching glimpse of the boys.

"Oh! I thought you were going to be out late." She said.

"Ah, Hudders. What time is it?" He asked her, but she only shrugged.

"You guys have only been gone two hours." I answered.

Both of them, at the same time, tried as hard as they could to get up, and unstuck, their legs draped over the railings, and their bodies wedged between the railing and the wall.

I turned the baby monitor up, and help both of them up the stairs laughing the whole time.

"What now?" John slurred, wobbling into the living room.

I grinned. Oh, I was going to have fun with this.

_Super duper short I know, but I wanted to get something up._

_I am thinking of starting a Merlin fanfic sometime soon…? After I finish this one, and then another request I got in...which won't be too long, considering we're on the third season, almost finished, and I'm still undecided about TAB. Tell me what you guys think…_

_Also, please, if you've seen "Merlin", please no spoilers in the reviews! My friend spoiled something for me today (she thought I had seen the full series...no Kourt. I'm only on season 2!)_

_Reviews:_

*slams fist down on table* I KNEW IIIIITTTT! I had a feeling (and also hoping) that it was going to be girl! Absolutely no offense to Elizabeth, though. Don't get me wrong, a son would've been great, but there's something really, really, REALLY adorable about Sherlock with a little girl. And Ophelia Marie is a wonderful name! I've only seen the name Ophelia once before in the Hamlet play, but I've never met anyone with the name before. It's very unique; I'm glad you chose it. And of course, Sherlock would want to name her after a famous chemist. Not really surprised there. XD

It's going to be so great to see more interactions with Elizabeth, Sherlock, and Ophelia. I can just imagine Sherlock awkwardly but cutely playing with her, as well as Mycroft coming over more often than he should and spoiling her rotten. And for some reason, I have this image of when Ophelia's a little older, Sherlock would get bored one day in the flat and look up cute hair styles on Pinterest and try them out on her, just to pass the time. It's weird, I know.

Also, when I read about Sherlock reading pregnancy books, I had a vivid image of him reading "What to Expect When You're Expecting". XD

...And then there was the part about the flowers sent from someone named, "Cam." My heart just dropped into my stomach. "Oh, dear God..."

Keep it up, my friend! :)

_~ A.J. Parker758_

_Thank you, dear! I'm glad you approve of the gender. Baby Holmes was actually, originally going to be a boy, but I changed it at the last minute. I'm glad you like the name, as well!_

_I can not wait to write more Elizabeth Sherlock and Ophelia, especially in the later seasons, when she's a bit older…_

_There will be plenty of spoiling from Uncle John and Uncle Myc Myc. Believe. Me. (A lot from Mary and Anthea too, because I think I might like to write Anthea a bit more)_

_And that's not weird...that's adorable! Sherlock looking up hair tutorials, and holding little hair ties, trying to get it perfect, fixing it for the little tea party she invited him to, with her stuffed Teddy...and, of course, some of those hair ties would end up in Sherlock's hair as well...though he would have no recollection of agreeing to let her put them there… (to which Ophelia would argue that he asked her to do it...I'm getting ahead of myself, she's only a few weeks old!)_

_And you know 'What to Expect When You're Expecting' was the _first _book he grabbed from the shelf!_

Deloreantime88:Charles Augustus magnuseen sent her the flowers can't wait to see what will happen next will he put her in the Bon fire along with John

_:) We shall have to wait and see! Thank you for the review!_

OMG yay! Ophelia Marie! It' so cute! You seriously just made my day with that, plus the fact that baby Holmes is here, I'm just really smilly right now hahah! :)

Since I am reviewing, I have to say that I really loved this chapter, worried Sherlock sounds so cute, and I thought him playing Clair de Lune to help Elizabeth sleep was a great touch :) like other readers I can just imagine him taking little Ophelia to a crime scene and Elizabeth getting reallyyy annoyed at him, of course then he would have to get back into her good books ;P

And ooohhh those flowersss, it may be just me, but that has to be foreshadowing for SOMETHING! Perhaps a warning? Danger may be on the horizon once again for our favorite couple-only time (and the author of course) will tell.

Gosh this review is long, sorry about that! I'm a bit of a chatterbox ahaha.

But one more thing, I'll PM you later about the prize once i think about it some more :) Can't wait for the next update!

_Hello again! I'm glad I could make your day! just you saying that has made MY day! I love it when people tell me that, gives me a bit of a confidence and pride in my writing I didn't have before._

_Sherlock will absolutely want to take Ophelia to a crime scene( "How else is she going to learn, Elizabeth?!" "Sherlock, she's only 2 weeks old!") and of course that would put everyone at Scotland Yard in an uncomfortable situation, and the officers i'll be drawing straws, hoping they don't get the job-having to tell Elizabeth, knowing that they will be there, first in line to witness her wrath…_

_I can't wait to write it!_

_And NEVER apologize for a long review, and make them longer if you want to! I love long reviews! I've said it a million times before, and I'll say it again, the longer the review, the happier I am. if there's nothing really that you have to say, that's fine, but don't apologize for it being long! I can ramble on and on as well (My A/N's are a perfect example!) I understand completely!_

_Thank you for the review, as always, and I hope you're having a wonderful day!_

Autumn:I love your story! You're awesome!

_Thank you so much, dear! I'm glad you enjoy it! And you're awesome too! Beyond awesome! Thank you so much!_

I thought this was really good. Definitely well written. I think the way you approach Elizabeth and Sherlock's relationship is very well done, keeping it real, and yet still awesome fairytale romance as well-very well done.I really enjoyed reading this story. I also love baby Holmes. She's so cute! :) looking forward to the next update!

~Whovianeverlark17

_First off, love the name. I'm a Whovian and Everlark shipper myself :)_

_Thank you so much for the review! This meant a lot to me, and, like I told Crimson Daydreamer above, these compliments really do give me confidence, and I take a bit more pride in my writing each time! I'm am so glad you're enjoying it!  
Taking a realistic approach to their relationship, though, was tricky, because this is Sherlock Holmes, who I admire tremendously, it was difficult to make it realistic and not kind of go off of fantasies myself, and others may have created in the past, and to not rush things, while also keeping that beautiful fairytale romance as well._

_I'm also really glad you love baby Holmes! I adore her, and adore writing her, and can't wait to write more of her in the future! Imagine all of the trouble her, Dad, and Uncle Myc Myc can get into! She'll be spoiled rotten :)_

_Again so so so so so sorry this is late! School has been dragging me down (I have an F in AP Language, can you believe it?) and all of my make up work, now a detention for something so stupid (won't go into great detail)_

_And binge watching Merlin (Which is something I can control, but..)_

_I am also thinking, when I am finished with this, writing a Merlin fan fiction…:/ I don't know, though…_

_I also have more of an outline for my original book (Yipee!), and I hope to start writing it soon!_

_~Eruaphadriel_


	45. Chapter 45

_Sorry this is kind of late. Again, I have more school work (failing two classes now...yay… :( ), and it's reeeeeaally stressing me out, to the point I can't _think _about writing right now, because I have so much to do._

_But, I'm trying. I really am. I got some assignments in tonight that are going to really boost my grade, hopefully. This is all going to clear up in a matter of time, I know it. I see the light at the end of the tunnel, and, trust me, it's coming close!_

They did their best stumbling into the flat, and Sherlock looked at me, then around the flat frantically, before sitting in his seat. I went to walk upstairs to get Ophelia, and attempt to rock her back to sleep in her room (hoping the boys weren't going to be too much trouble), when Sherlock began to stumble around the flat again.

"Where's my baby?" He asked, as if he had lost her. John began to look too. "Did you know I have a baby?" Sherlock asked John. John nodded.

"Yeah. How could I forget." he stumbled to his chair, giving up the search. I leaned against the wall, watching them.

"Mmm." Sherlock hummed, sitting back down in his chair. "She's beautiful." He whispered, closing his eyes, and nodding off. "I love my baby."

"I love you too, dear." I said. Sherlock's eyes shot open.

"Not you. My daughter."

I laughed. "I know what you meant. She's upstairs in her room." I explained. Both of them let out a sigh of relief. I chuckled, then went upstairs, still listening to the two ramble on.

She was giggling up at the ceiling when I came in, waving her little arms when she saw me, holding them up. I picked her up, smiling at her, and sat in the rocking chair, humming lullabies as she grabbed a strand of my hair, staring at it, her brows almost furrowed.

"It's not as curly as daddy's is, is it?" I asked her, as she tugged and let go, like she did to Sherlock's this morning. She did it again and again, before laughing, and throwing her hand into the rest of my hair that was hanging over my shoulder, making a mess.

"Ophelia!" I chuckled, moving my hair behind my shoulder, so she couldn't reach. She stared at me, and I began to hum again.

"Elizabeth!" I heard Sherlock shout. Then John. Then Sherlock again, both of them causing Ophelia to jump out of sleep.

I sighed, walking down stairs slowly.

"She was almost asleep." I scolded them, quietly, nodding to the half-asleep child in my arms.

"Hey, look. It's your baby. Found her!" John pointed.

"Good job, John. What do you want?" I asked.

"I'm bored." John answered. I looked at Sherlock.

"And you?"

He only shrugged.

"Alright, boys, how about a game?" I asked, grabbing a notebook from the table, and ripping off two small pieces of paper.

* * *

Sherlock plopped down in his seat, handing the paper to John, who taped it to his forehead.

"Ready?" Sherlock slurred.

"Hang on." John said, then looked at his hands.

"It's on your…"

"Oh, yeah right." John mumbled, smoothing the paper down. "Why aren't you playing, Beth?"  
"Ophelia and I are going to be the judges." I answered. Seeing as neither one of them seemed to be dangerous drunks, I decided to keep Ophelia down here with us, instead of keeping her in her room, alone. Doesn't mean I liked it, but it made me feel a little better that I could keep an eye on her, and John and Sherlock, and I hadn't seen her all day. I missed her a little (or a lot).

"Oh, right, right." he said. "Alright. Am I a vegetable?"

"You, or the thing?" Sherlock asked. John laughed.

"Funny!"

"Thank you." Sherlock said, his head down.  
"Come on."  
"No, you're not a vegetable." he slurred.

"It's your go." John reminded.

"Err...am I human?"

"Sometimes."  
Sherlock looked to me, his own name written on his forehead. "Can he do that?"

"It can't be sometimes. Has to be yes or no." I reminded...for the fifth time.  
"Yes, you're human."

"Okay." He leaned forward. "Am I a man?"

"Yep."

"Tall?"

John thought for a second. "Not as tall as people think."

"Hmmm. Nice?"  
"-ish."

"Clever?"

"I'd say so."

"You would?"

John chuckled. "Am I important?" Sherlock went on.

"So some people."

"Do _people_ like me?"  
"Umm, no they don't. You tend to rub them up the wrong way."

"Okay." Sherlock said, leaning back in his chair, while John sniggered. I let out a small laugh as well.

He leaned forward again. "Am I the current King of England."  
John and I both laughed out loud.  
"You know we don't have a king." John reminded.

"Don't we?" He asked, looking towards me.

"No." I answered.

"Your go." He said to John, leaning back. John uncrossed his legs, leaning forward, beginning to slide off of his chair, a hand going to Sherlock's knee to brace himself, using to to scoot him back some. He looked down at his hand, before holding both of them up.  
"I don't mind." He said, and Sherlock shrugged, indicating he didn't mind either. I bit my lip, trying not to laugh.

"Am I a woman?" John asked. Sherlock laughed. "What?"

"Yes."

"Am I pretty?" He asked, pointing to the paper. "This."  
"Err ... Er, beauty is a construct based entirely on childhood impressions, influences and role models." Sherlock answered.

"Yeah, but am I a pretty lady?" John asked again. Sherlock squinted his eyes, leaning closer.

"I don't know. I don't know who you're supposed to be." He said. I leaned in a little, only barely able to make out '_Madonna'._

These two…

"You picked the name!" John shouted, then looked to me as I shushed him. "Sorry baby." He said, looking over at Ophelia.

"I picked it random from the papers." He answered. I heard the doorbell ring, excused myself from the room, and went to answer it, meeting Mrs. Hudson there.

"Are they alright?" She asked.

"Drunk." I answered.

"Oh." She said. "I've just made some cookies if you would like to have some, by the way." She said.

"Of course." I smiled, making my way to her flat. Might be for the best, anyway, with those two being drunk, and trying to get Ophelia to sleep.

"Mrs. Hudson came back a few minutes later, offering me a glass of milk, and setting up some pillows in her bedroom after Ophelia went to sleep, finally.

"Who was it, at the door?" I asked.

"Client. I tried to get her to go, told her it wasn't a good time, but she said it was urgent."

"That must be interesting." I commented. She nodded.

"No doubt."

"And embarrassing...well, for me."

She laughed. "Just as long as they don't leave the flat, I think it's be alright." She nodded, and I agreed. Maybe this client will see that they really aren't able to function on a mature level, and escort herself out, and come back again tomorrow, or the next day.

Mrs. Hudson had convinced me to let Ophelia stay the night, saying she wouldn't be any trouble at all, and if any time that night I wanted to come and get her, I was more than welcome. I told her the same, not knowing how Ophelia was going to be that night, in a new place. Would be better, though, with Sherlock more than likely having a hangover. A baby crying wouldn't make it any better…

When I went upstairs, though, I couldn't find them anywhere, and neither one of them were answering their phones, so I called Lestrade.

"You can come a get them in the morning." He laughed.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I'm afraid their spending the night in a holding cell. Unless, of course, you want to get them right now?"

"Oh, no, of course not." I laughed, knowing getting them up and out in the morning was going to be a blast.

"Of course not." Lestrade agreed. "Where's the fun in that?"

"What happened?" I asked.

"Well, they decided to try to go on a case. While there, Sherlock fell asleep, and may have thrown up on the carpet."

"Eww." I said, wrinkling my nose. "Please tell me you gave him a toothbrush?" I said. He didn't answer. "Awesome." I sighed.

"Sorry. You would think she would realize they were drunk, and would have come back some other day."  
"Really. I was down at Mrs. Hudson's, or else I would've made sure that they wouldn't have gone."

He changed the subject, asking about Ophelia, how much she had grown. I told him about how observative she was, and how she would 'talk' to Sherlock. He laughed, of course suggesting she was just making fun of him.

We said our goodbyes, and I told him I would be there around eight to pick them up, before I went to bed, and slept better than I had in ages.

* * *

"Wakey-wakey!" Greg yelled, walking into the cell. John was the first awake, grimacing. Both of them had been fast asleep on the benches.

"Greg. Is that Greg?" John asked.

"Get up. We're going to get you two home. We managed to square everything with the desk sergeant." Lestrade explained while John did his best to get to his feet. I laughed. "What a couple of lightweights! You couldn't even make it to closing time!"

"Can you whisper?" John asked quietly, walking towards him. Lestrade leaned over.

"Not really!" He yelled, loudly, into his ear, causing him to lean away, and Sherlock to shoot up, startled, looking around the room. John walked out of the cell, Greg behind him, while I helped Sherlock.

"Come on." I said, quietly, helping Sherlock stand up.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." I said, waving me off as I tried to help, and tried getting up on his own, but fell back down.

"Yeah, you've got this." I said, grabbing his elbow, helping him up.

* * *

"Well, thanks for...well, you know...an evening."  
"It was awful." Sherlock grumbled, putting on his coat, then grabbing the bridge of his nose.  
"Yeah." John agreed. "I was going to pretend, but it was, _truly."_

"That woman, Tessa." Sherlock said.

"What?" I asked.

"Dated a ghost. The most interesting case in months. What a wasted opportunity."  
"...Okay."

* * *

John followed me to Mrs. Hudson's while Sherlock went upstairs to take a nap. John did the same, crashing on her couch while she made breakfast.

"I hope she wasn't any trouble."  
Mrs. Hudson laughed. "Not at all! She was perfect. Only ever cried when she was hungry, or needed to be changed, really." She answered, smiling at Ophelia, before going back to breakfast. "So I take it they _did_ go back out last night."

"Attempted a case."  
She shook her head. "Those two." She mumbled. "Must have been a disaster." She said.

"From the way Greg explained it this morning, and John told me what he remembered-it wasn't too great."

"I imagine it wasn't! Still, I wish it had been caught on camera." She giggled.

John stumbled in as she was finishing breakfast, and I got him a glass of water, and John dropped in an effervescent antacid pill.

"How are you feeling?" Mrs. Hudson asked. John hummed, taking a drink of water.

"It's just like old times, having you back here." She said, sliding a plate of breakfast in front of him. "Thought I'd make your favorite one last time."

"Don't sound so final about it. I will be visiting, you know."

"Ooh! I've heard that one before."

"Mm, no, it's different now, isn't it? It's different to when we'd lost him." John argued, taking a bite.

"Well, marriage changes everything, John."

"Does it?" He looked back and forth between us. I only shrugged, not noticing much of a difference at all, but then again, I was married to Sherlock...John was marrying someone…normal.

But Mrs. Hudson thought otherwise.

"Yeah." She said. "You might not think it does, but it does. It's a different phase in your life. You meet new people, because you're a couple, and you just….let your old friends slip away." She said sadly.  
"It won't be like that." John vowed.

"Well, if you've found the right one, the person you click with, it's the best thing in the world." She mused.

"Well, I have. I know I have."

"Oh, I'm sure. She's lovely!"

"Yeah. I think so." He smiled.

"What about you?" I asked her.

"Me?"

"Did you think you'd found the right one when you married Mr. Hudson?" I wondered. She laughed, waving hand.

"Oh, no! It was just a whirlwind thing for us. I knew it wouldn't work, but I just got sort of swept along. And then we moved to Florida. We had a fantastic time, but of course I didn't know what he was up to." She shook her head. "The drugs." She whispered.

"Drugs?" John laughed.

"And then I found out about all the other women. I didn't have a clue! So when he was actually arrested for blowing someone's head off...it was kind of a relief, to be honest."

"...Right." John said slowly, raising a brow towards me. I covered my smile.

"It was purely physical between me and Frank. We couldn't keep our hands off each other."  
I prayed Ophelia would wake up and interrupt her. Instead, I grabbed my plate from earlier, taking it to the sink, but I could still hear her.

"I remember there was one night…"

"Hang on." John interrupted. I sighed in relief. "Hang on-was that...Sherlock?" He asked. I didn't hear anything at first.

"Is it?" She asked.

We waited, then heard loud footsteps.

"Yeah, it's Sherlock." He got up from the table, and left. I tried to find a way out as well.

"Does she usually sleep so late? Usually, I know, babies, especially when they're as young as she is, tend to wake up early." She said, taking John's plate to the sink. I shrugged, happily.

"Sometimes she does. We've asked the doctor about it, but they said it wasn't anything to worry about. She's just sleepy. I don't know, though." I said.

"Well, she's an...odd child. Look at her father." She whispered. I laughed.

"She is." I agreed. "You'll tell me when she wakes up? I'm going to see how Sherlock's feeling."

"Of course."  
I walked up the stairs, quietly, finding John still in the doorway, his arms crossed.

"What's….where did you get all of those?" I asked. Sherlock was sitting in the floor, surrounded by several laptops. "Why not just open different tabs?"

"I don't know." John answered. "But it's funny watching him switch between them all."

"Why? Why would he date all of those women, and not return their calls?" Sherlock asked outloud.

"You're missing the obvious, mate." John said, stepping into the room.

"What?"

"He's a man."

Sherlock slammed the lid of the laptops. "But why would he change his identity?"

"Maybe he's married." John suggested.

"Oh." Sherlock said, slowly straightening.

"Don't give him ideas." I said to John, who chuckled.

* * *

As the wedding drew closer and closer, I could tell Sherlock was getting a little more nervous, going above and beyond the call of duty. It was sweet, in a way, that he wanted to do all of this for his friend, and brother-in-law, and, in a lot of ways, very surprising.

I woke up to the doorbell ringing, louder than it usually was. It rung again, and I got up, checking on Ophelia, who was also very unhappy about being woken up, her lips turned down into a frown, her eyes beginning to water.

"See, this is what happens when you refuse to sleep in your own room. It's not as quiet in here, is it?" I whispered. Sherlock and I had tried to get her to stay at least a night in her own room, and she would, for a while, but she would always wake us up, crying, until we brought her back downstairs to her crib in our room.

We even tried switching the cribs, thinking that might have been the problem, but it was the same thing.

Sherlock had also met with several other wedding guests, those having an important part in the wedding, like the usher, who I didn't get to meet, but according to Sherlock the small chat they had went 'surprisingly well'. I was a little concerned, though.

So when I walked out of your room, now fully dressed, with Ophelia, it wasn't a surprise to hear Sherlock talking to someone sitting in John's chair, though they were too short for me to see.

"Hello." I smiled, walking around the chair to find a young boy, no older than twelve, frowning. "What's your name."

"Archie." he answered, indifferently.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Elizabeth." I said, smiling wider, trying to get him to do the same, but he seemed dead-set on being unhappy.

His lips did twitch up, though, but went back down to a frown.

"Elizabeth? I promised I would ask a grown up. Why do grown ups like it when kids wear suits?"

"Are you asking why the ring bearer need to wear a suit?" I asked. "And what makes you think I'm a grown up?"

"Because you seem like one." He shrugged a shoulder. I sighed.

"Well, it's a formal event, everyone wears a suit, and you" I looked at Archie. "have a very important job, therefore, you have to wear the very nice suit that they picked out."

He sighed.

"I don't want to."

"Not even for just one day? I'm sure you would look handsome!" I tried.

"I've tried it on."

"And?"

"It's awful."

There was no winning. "Maybe to you. Someone else might think you look-"

"Awful."

"-handsome."

If all children are like this….

Everyone went silent, and Archie stared at Ophelia, who stared back at him, her eyes wide.

"She's cute." He commented, quietly.

"This is Ophelia."I said.

He went silent, frowning again, and looked around the room. I looked at Sherlock, who stared back at me, calmly, and shrugged his shoulders.

"You're a detective?" Archie asked.

"Yup." Sherlock answered.

"Have you solved any murders?"

"Sure, loads."

"Can I see."

I shook my head at Sherlock, telling him no, but he shrugged again.

"Sure, why not."

"Sherlock." I whispered.

"He's interested, and it might get him to wear the suit, I know what I'm doing." He said, walking towards the computer. I grabbed his arm.

"He's a kid. How old is he?"

"Ten." I glared at him, but he only smiled. "You said when Ophelia was ten…"  
"First, I never said that,"

"You did, though. "

"second, he's not _my _son. His parents might not want him looking at dead bodies. I knew I wouldn't want Ophelia looking at them."

"Okay. How else are you going to get him into the suit?" He asked.

"Force him."

"How? He's not your son, as you pointed out."

I thought, but came up with nothing, sighing. "Sherlock Holmes, you are awful." I shook my head. He smiled.

"And you married me." he said, turning around, and sitting at the computer, opening it up, and selecting a picture. I walked back to the bedroom. If I wasn't there, I can't be help responsible….

* * *

The morning of the wedding, I was woken up by Sherlock, playing his violin. I tiptoed out of the bedroom (since Ophelia was still asleep), and into the living room. When he saw me, he smiled.

"Ah, good morning." He said.

"Good morning. You seem very….happy." I said.

"Would you help me." He asked.

"With what?" I wondered. He rarely ever asked for help.

"Do you know how to dance?"

I stood there, shocked. Honestly, that was the last thing I would ever think he would ask.

"Like a waltz?"

"Yes, exactly." He nodded. "Do you?"

"Vaguely. I'm not very good."

"Then we'll be killing two birds with one stone. Would you like to learn?"

"Yes, of course." I smiled. "What other bird?"

"I need to do some road testing." He handed me a piece of sheet music, and I looked at it, recognizing his handwriting.

"Did you compose this for John and Mary?" I asked, my smile getting wider by the second.

"Yes. Mary asked if I would."

"Aww, that's sweet. I'm sure it's lovely."

"I wanted to see if it worked, if that's alright." He said, suddenly becoming bashful, and lowering his head.

"Sure. You'll have to help me." I said, putting the music back on the table.

"Of course. How are you going to play at dance at the same time?" I wondered. He pulled his phone from his pocket, and waved it in the air.

"Recorded it." He said, hooking his phone up to a pair of speakers, and getting the recording ready.

I was excited. MY grandparents, when I would go over and stay the night, would always listen to music, a lot of the time, classical music, and when a waltz would come one, my grandfather would grab my grandmother, stopping whatever she was doing, whether washing dishes, or vacuuming, and dance with her, both of them being excellent dancers in their youth, and both knew how to waltz. I had always asked my grandfather to teach me, and he did, some, but it's been years, and I wanted to learn again.

"I never knew you could dance." I said, as Sherlock stepped away from the table, and towards me.

"I love dancing."

:Why don't you dance more often?" I asked. "If I could dance, I know I would. All the time."

He shrugged. "The chance rarely comes up." He said, grabbing my hand, holding it in the air, placing the other on my waist, while my hand found it's way to his shoulder, and I was almost waiting for him to correct me, afraid I was doing it wrong, but he didn't.

He spent the next few minutes teaching me the steps (or, rather, me trying not to step on him), before stopping.

"You're not...awful."

I laughed. "Thank you. It's not as easy as it looks!" I defended myself. He let out a laugh, as well, shaking his head.

"No, it isn't. Ready to try it with music?" He asked. I nodded, feeling a little more confident than I did before, for whatever reason.

He started the music, but waited a second, before dancing, and I tried to keep up. Eventually, I got the hang of it, and danced with, somewhat, ease.

I laughed a little. "You know, we probably look really silly." I said.

"How so?"

"Well, you're dressed, but still wearing your dressing gown, and I'm in my pajamas, my hair probably looks more like a haystack, and we're waltzing around the livingroom. I just know that if I happened to walk into this scene, I would laugh a little, at least." I said. He smiled.

"You're hair doesn't look like a haystack. It looks fine."

"Whatever."

"No, I mean it."

I glared at him, trying to hold back a smile, as the door opened.

_Ta da! Sorry again that this is so late, and hopefully I will have the next chapter up next week, or maybe later this week, if I have nothing going on._

_Reviews: (there weren't a whole lot, but that's alright!)_

Nothing much for me to say except for maybe: Aaaaaaawwwwwwwwwwwwww! So sweet, I'm already getting cavities! Tone it down! (No, don't really tone it down. I'll gladly lose all my teeth for the sake of the sweetness that is Ophelia). I love how you've described her in this chapter; how she's seeing everything for first time and taking it all in curiously. She's definitely got her father's gift of wanting to observe everything. And Sherlock talking to her and her cooing back as if actually having a conversation together is adorable. And Elizabeth is acting like any other first-time mother would act like: worrying for her child most of the time, especially when leaving her with someone else. But Elizabeth has quite the family to help her out (along with much baby spoiling from Uncles John and Myc). And I agree, I think Anthea would be a good help too. She may not be in the show much, but she's grown vastly popular in the fandom with the reputation of an awesome PA that could handle

anything, especially Mycroft. Very good idea! I say go for it

Keep it up! :)

_I would love to start writing Anthea in, and her getting more involved, because I feel like, if she didn't do it voluntarily, Mycroft would ask for some help watching Ophelia, and who better than his PA, and a woman._

_I really hope she's in future episodes!_

_I shan't tone it down! There is more to come! I hope I continue to write Ophelia like this as she gets older, and , of course, I'm excited for when she starts talking….the things she'll learn to say. Definitely going to be interesting._

_Elizabeth has a lot of help, I think, a lot of _great _help. This girl will not be picked on in school, I think it's safe to say! Not only will Sherlock and Scotland Yard be on her side, but the whole British Government._

_I'm glad you enjoyed it, and i'm sorry about the long waits!_

Yay! New update :) Loved it as usual, also if I had time right now I would totally write a longer review like you like, next time though :) Sherlock, Elizabeth and Ophelia are sooooo cute and I cannot wait for more!

~Crimson Daydreamer

_So glad you loved it, and sorry about the wait between chapters. It's fine if you can't write a long review, I understand! I hope this chapter wasn't too awful (it took a while to write, and it was in chunks, so I'm not sure :/)_

_Thank you!_

_Alrighty, that's it, I think! Bye!_


	46. Yikesthis is embarrassing

Hello, everyone.

I want to, first of all, apologize for my absence. I know I haven't been writing much, and the only things I can say is Homework, and laziness….

I'm extremely sorry.

But homework is getting a little easier (I had to do 50 note cards full of information for a research paper, and 10 index cards with citations), and catching up with more English work...awful. Then I have a 4-6 page research paper, which isn't too bad...

And when I come home, I'm exhausted.

But I'm sitting down, taking a break from working, and I am finally getting back to writing! Slowly but surely, the next chapter is getting done.

WARNING: you might hate me afterwards...not just because it took a while...

It has also come to my attention that this story has been up for ONE WHOLE YEAR!  
Happy Birthday A.W.!

For its birthday, I want to do something fun.

Send in questions, and maybe I'll do another 20 questions, and I may do another contest. I'm taking questions now, so, if you have one about me, this story, please ask away. Nothing's prohibited! There are no rules! Want to ask me basic questions? Okay? Want to ask me what the purpose of human existence is? Cool! Please do! Want to ask me the most random question you can possibly imagine? Awesome, I'm game! I'm up for anything!  
The next thing, I'll let you decide. You can decide what you want to do..

I am in the process of writing the next chapter, where I'll be doing the 20 questions, so hurry up and ask away!

I want to apologize again, but the next chapter is almost done, with a lot more cuteness with Ophelia, and Elizabeth, some little clues along the way, leading up to something...along with the wedding, and the famous best man speech.

Going to be super fun to write.

Again, I am so sorry I have been so absent, but duty calls, I suppose. Digging myself out of that hole, though.

Also, if anyone else is going to the Doctor Who convention in Clarksville TN…..

My dad's taking me and my sister that weekend, as a surprise, but I mentioned it, and the cat was out of the bag, so if anyone else is going, we may run into each other. I'll be the one on the floor crying from excitement, unable to navigate to the end of a sentence….

Just kidding, I'll be wearing a fez.

I should see you guys very very soon!

Love, Eruaphadriel


	47. Chapter 47

_Hello gang, long time no see!_

_I need new music to listen to, so if you wanna leave some of your favorite bands/songs, that'll be awesome...thanks._

_I recently just got into Pixies...and I am in love._

_Do you guys realize that it has almost been ONE WHOLE YEAR since I first published this story? Holy SHIT! Guys, I'm excited._

_We have passed the anniversary of this story (which has been my favorite to write so far), and I want to do something special, kind of like what I did for my birthday._

_If you guys have questions, personal, or about the story, send 'em in, and I'll do another 20 questions, as well as something else, maybe another code, more difficult this time…._

_AND! I took a mock AP-Exam for AP Language…._

_I made a qualifying score (which is great!), and the essays (Argument, Rhetorical analysis, and Synthesis), were graded on a scale of 0-9, 9 being the best. My Rhetorical and Synthesis were a 5, which is where I need to be, and better than I thought, and my Argument essay, which was the lowest scoring Argument essay in AP…..I made a 7….A _Seven!_i If I wasn't in a room full of people, I would have screamed for joy! And he told me mom that as a junior in high school, I write like a junior in college… what the heck!  
Confidence booster right there!_

_Also, my English teacher knows that I write fan fiction now, thanks to my mother…._

_Kind of glad I use a pen name for all of my writing..._

Sherlock glanced over his shoulder.

"Shut up, Mrs. Hudson." He said, but we didn't stop dancing, like I thought we were going to.

"I haven't said a word." She walked in, carrying a tray.

"You're formulating a question. It's physically painful watching you think." He sighed, stopping, and turning off the music player.

"I thought it was you playing." She said, putting the tray down on the table beside John's old chair.

"It was me playing." He said, grabbing a pen, and changing something in the music.

"You two were dancing." She said, smiling, looking at Sherlock and I. I felt my cheeks begin to burn, no doubt at least a little pink. Hopefully this wouldn't change anything, her seeing us, and we would have to start all over again. I shoved my hands in my pockets just in case.

"We were road-testing."

"Do what?" She laughed.

"Why are you here." Sherlock said, throwing the pen down and looking at her, his excited attitude from this morning seeming to have completely evaporated.

"I'm bringing you your morning tea. You're not usually awake."

"You bring me tea in the morning?"

"Sherlock, where did you think it came from?" I asked. He knew I didn't make it in the morning, because I was usually asleep as well.

"I just thought it sort of...happened." he said, grabbing a cup, and sitting down.

"You thought it just happened?" I asked. He shrugged a shoulder.

"Your mother has a lot to answer for." Mrs. Hudson said, pouring more tea into another cup, handing it to me.

"Thank you."

"Oh, I know. I have a list. Mycroft has a file." He said, taking a sip.

Mrs. Hudson sat down in John's chair, laughing. "So. It's the big day, then."

"What big day?"

"The wedding!" She said, but Sherlock wasn't as excited. "John and Mary getting married!"

"Two people who currently live together, are about to attend church, have a party, go on a short holiday, and continue living together." He said. I ignored it, while Mrs. Hudson looked between the two of us, brows furrowed. She let it pass as well.

"It changes people, marriage." She explained. He only hummed, and I couldn't tell if it was annoyance, or agreement, until he sent a secret smile to me, one that Mrs. Hudson, surprisingly, didn't catch.

"Your husband was executed for double murder." Sherlock reminded, rudely. "You're hardly an advert for companionship."

"Marriage changes you as a person, in ways that you can't imagine." She insisted.

"As does lethal injection." Sherlock pointed out, and I giggled, earning a glare from our landlady, and a smile from Sherlock.

"Sherlock." I sighed, shaking my head.

"Well, surely you know by now." He grunted again. " Anyway, my best friend , Margaret-she was my chief bridesmaid, we were best friends forever, we always said that." She explained. "But I hardly saw her after that."

"Aren't there usually biscuits?" Sherlock asked, aggravatedly. I knew this is exactly what Sherlock was afraid was going to happen to him and John, and struck a chord with me, as well. I rarely even talked to Molly and Sarah anymore.

"I've run out." She said, sadly.

"Have the shops?" he asked, walking towards the door.

"She cried the whole day, saying 'Oh, it's the end of an era.'" She went on.

"I'm sure the shop on the corner is open." Sherlock gesture towards the stairs. She ignored him.

"She was probably right, really."

I was getting annoyed, and was making a mental note to call Sarah and Molly sometime in the near future.

"I remember she left the wedding early. I mean, who leaves a wedding early?" She shook her head. "So sad."

"Mmm. Anyway, you've got things to do." Sherlock said.

"No, no really. I've got plenty of time to…"

"_Biscuits." _ He shouted, startling her. She jumped from the chair, storming to the door.

"I really am going to have a word with your mother." She said, stomping down the stairs as Sherlock shut the door behind her.

"Did you have to be so rude?" I wondered.

"She wouldn't leave otherwise."

I sighed, ignoring it, wiping a hand over my face. Today was going to be a long day. A great day, but a long one none the less…

Sherlock went back to the bedroom, while I checked the time, seeing that I had about an hour to get myself and Ophelia ready.

Seeing as I wasn't one of the bride's maids, though, I didn't really have to be there as early as Sherlock did, so when I came out of the bathroom, and Sherlock was gone, with a text saying he left Ophelia with Mrs. Hudson while I showered, I wasn't shocked.

I was shocked, though, to go to Mrs. Hudson's and find that Ophelia was already dressed, her diaper bag packed, and ready to go. I asked Mrs. Hudson if she had dressed her, but she laughed a little, saying all she had done for Ophelia this morning was make a bottle.

* * *

It was beautiful. All of it.

I sat by mom through the ceremony, who held Ophelia, the baby happily playing with the ends of her grandmother's hair as she bawled her eyes out, watching her son get married. I searched for Harry, though she never showed up.

Once the ceremony was over, and they were having pictures made, I found Lestrade, going to walk beside him.

"Good morning." He greeted me, a smile on his face. "And good morning to you, too." He smiled at Ophelia, holding out his hands to take her. She leaned towards him, her arms outstretched as well.

"Still not very vocal?" He wondered. I shook my head.

"Nope." I said, pursing my lips.

"Well, don't let it worry you too much. Soon, you'll be wishing she wasn't at all."

I laughed a little, and he continued. "I'm serious. When Henry started talking for the first time, I swear, it was adorable, but then they ask 'Why?' All the time. Or Henry's other favorite; 'What's that?'" He shook his head again.

"Where is Henry?" I wondered.

"He's at his mother's." He explained, his face falling a little.

"So you two are officially divorced now?"

He nodded. "Good." I said. "You're a good man, Greg. You deserve a lot better." I patted his shoulder. He nodded again.

"Yeah, I like to think so. Thank you." I smiled.

"Anytime."

"So, who's 'better'? Any ideas?"

I chuckled.

"Not a clue." I said, looking over to my brother and Mary, who had finished their pictures, as the photographer moved to Sherlock and the chief bridesmaid, Janine.

I had met her once, when Mary and I made plans to go out to dinner, and she tagged along, which was perfectly fine with me. We got along alright, and I liked her, she was nice, but there was something about her I couldn't figure out, and I honestly didn't like.

But maybe that was the fact that she was standing, very close to Sherlock, and playfully punched his arm, as they conversed. Sherlock never really looked at her, though, instead looked around at the crowd, until the photographer grabbed his attention, and she slipped her arm around his.

"Uh-oh." Lestrade said from behind me. "Could someone be jealous?"

I turned around, rolling my eyes. "I am _not_ jealous." I told him.

"Really? Because it looks like you're about to run over there and rip her head off."

"I'm not." I assured him.

"Well, good, 'cause it's my day off." He chuckled. I laughed as well, rolling my eyes again.

"Trust me. I'm fine, everything's fine. Honestly, I couldn't care less." I smiled.

"Are you two okay?" He wondered, and I nodded.

"Yeah." I sighed. He nodded as well.

"Alright. I'm kidnapping her for a while, if that's alright with you." He nodded to Ophelia, who was fiddling with his suit pocket.

"I'll pretend I didn't see you do it."

He smiled, and turned around, walking through the crowd with Ophelia, talking to her.

"Elizabeth, is it?" Someone asked, and I turned around to see Janine, smiling, making her way to me.

"Yes, hi." I greeted her, smiling as well. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders, giving me a squeeze, as if we had been friends forever.

"Oh, you look beautiful." She said, looking me up and down.

"So do you."

I caught John across the yard, and excused myself to catch him. She only smiled, and let me go.

"Congratulations!" I squealed, wrapping my arms around his shoulders from behind, startling him. He spun around, confused, but then smiled. "I'm so happy for you!"

"Thank you." He said, though he sounded tired of saying it. No doubt that's almost all he's said today. "Where's Ophelia?" He asked, looking around.

"She's been kidnapped." He looked worried, his eyes widening, face growing serious. I chuckled. "By Greg." He shook his head.

"Don't scare me like that, Elizabeth." He sighed.

"Sorry." I said, half heartedly. "What about Mary?"

"Kidnapped by Janine." He nodded behind me, and I turned to find the two women laughing, Mary holding onto Janine's arm. "You don't like her, do you. I can tell."

"Mary? I _adore _Mary!" I said, a little offended.

"No, no, Janine."

I shook my head. "I don't hate her." He didn't say anything. Just started. "First Lestrade, now you. I do not hate her. Promise."

"Alright. I'm just going to point out, though, that's two people who have noticed that you might not be too fond of her."

"I don't know her that well."

"You didn't know Mary that well at first. You still made an effort to get to know her." He pointed out. "You know, after he...came back."  
I nodded. "Yeah." I pursed my lips.

"Her and Sherlock seem to get along well, though."  
"Yeah." I said again. I could tell something was bothering him, but he didn't say anything. He just smiled, and patted my shoulder.

* * *

I was one of the first to greet the newlywed couple, Sherlock and Janine at the door.

Mary hugged the life out of me, her smile never wavering, and she kept repeating how happy she was that they were finally married, and she could call me her sister. I said the exact same, and meant it. I loved Sarah, and liked the other women John dated through the years, but I'm glad he chose Mary.

John and I didn't say much of anything to each other, having spoken earlier, we felt we didn't really need to. I hugged him, though, and expressed how happy I was for him.

I even had a small conversation with Janine, complimenting her dress, but when I got to Sherlock, I walked right by him. We didn't even look at each other.

I took my seat beside Greg, who was still holding Ophelia.

"I'm keeping her." He stated. I laughed.

"Who says? You have a son."

He laughed, handing my daughter back to me. Her tiny hand immediately wrapped themselves in my hair, and the giggled. I glanced at Lestrade as she yanked a lock.

"You know what, on second thought…" I trailed off. "Ow, Ophelia, darling." I took her hands, and untangled them. She watched, confused, and a bit hurt. I only tucked a tiny, unruly blond curl behind her ear, and smiled at her.

The afternoon was going well. Eerily well, to be honest. It was making me a little nervous, and I had to remind myself to calm down.

No doubt I was just nervous for my brother and Mary. This is their big day, and if someone were to screw things up…

Suddenly, someone stood up, tapping their glass, announcing the best man. Everyone applauded as Sherlock stood up, buttoning his jacket.

""Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends, and … erm… others. Also…" He trailed off, glancing at me.

"_Telegrams" _I mouthed to him. He nodded, slightly.

"Right emm first things first: telegrams. Well they're not actually telegrams I don't know why wedding tradition because we don't have enough of that already apparently." He picked ujp the telegrams, reading the first one.

"'To Mr and Mrs Watson. So sorry I'm unable to be with you on your special day. Good luck and best wishes, Mike Stamford.' 'To John and Mary. All good wishes for your special day. With love and many big …'" He stopped, taking a breath. "' ... big squishy cuddles, from Stella and Ted.'" Mary and John giggled, and I stifled a laugh. He was obviously so uncomfortable. He hurried to the next one. "Mary – lots of love, …'" He stopped again, and I could tell this one was almost like the one before it.

"Yeah?" I heard Mary ask, quietly.

"'... poppet …'" John and Mary giggled again.

"'... Oodles of love and heaps of good wishes from CAM." He read, and Mary's smile fell. I furrowed my eyebrows, confused, and made a mental note to ask her about it later. Maybe when they came back from their honeymoon… "'Wish your family could have seen this.'"

Sherlock shuffled through the cards, reading little bits from them, all of them mentioning the 'special day', or 'love', going towards John, Mary, or the both of them.

"Bit of a theme-you get the general gist, people are basically fond."

The crowd chuckled quietly, and Sherlock turned his head to look at John.

"John Watson… My friend John Watson. John. When John first broached the subject of being best man, I was confused. I confess at first I didn't realise he was asking me when finally I understood I expressed to him that I was both flattered and surprised. I explained to him that I had never expected this request and I was a little daunted in the face of it all. I nonetheless promised that I would do my very best to accomplish the task which was for me as demanding and difficult as any I had ever contemplated. Additionally, I thanked him for the trust he placed in me and indicated that I was in some ways very close to being moved by it." John and I shared a glance, neither one of us remembering him saying anything along those lines….or anything at all…

"It later transpired that I had said none of this out loud."

I laughed along with the rest of the crowd.

"I'm afraid John I can't congratulate you, all emotions and a particular love stand opposed to the pure cold reason I hold above all things. A wedding is in my considered opinion nothing short of a celebration of all this is false and specious and irrational and sentimental in this ailing and morally compromised world. Today we honour the death watch beetle that is the doom of our society and in time, one feels certain, our entire species."

"_Lord, Sherlock." _I whispered, bringing my hand to the my face, glancing at Greg, who was staring at Sherlock, blankly.

"But anyway let's talk about John." _Yes, please! _"If I burden myself with a little help mate during my adventures this is not out of sentiment or caprice. It is that he has many fine qualities of his own that he has overlooked in his obsession with me. Indeed, any reputation I have for mental acuity and sharpness comes in truth from the extraordinary contrast John so selflessly provides. It is a fact that I believe brides tend to favour exceptionally plain bridesmaids for their big day; there is a certain analogy there I feel. And contrast is, after all, God's own plan to enhance the beauty of his creation - or it would be if God were not a ludicrous fantasy designed to provide a career opportunity for the family idiot."

I didn't say anything this time, almost in tears of embarrassment…

But he called Jenine plain…I felt a little better.

He looked around, the crowd almost as shocked as I would have been had I not known him.

"The point I'm trying to make is that I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant and all round obnoxious arsehole that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to meet. I am dismissive of the virtuous, unaware of the beautiful and uncomprehending in the face of the happy. So, if I didn't understand I was being asked to be best man it is because I never expected to be anybody's best friend. Certainly not the best friend of the bravest and kindest and wisest human being I have ever had the good fortune of knowing. John, I am a ridiculous man. Redeemed only by the warmth and constancy of your friendship but as I'm apparently your best friend, I cannot congratulate you on your choice of companion… Actually, now I can. Mary, when I say you deserve this man it is the highest compliment of which I am capable. John, you have endured war and injury and tragic loss - so sorry again about that last one - so know this: today you sit between the woman you have made your wife and the man you have saved. In short, the two people who love you most in all this world. And I know I speak for Mary as well when I say we will never let you down and we have a lifetime ahead to prove that." He said, making up for his offensive words at the beginning.

"Ah, yes, now onto some funny stories about John." He said, looking around at the crowd again. Women were dabbing their eyes, and I would be lying if I said that tears weren't pooling in my own eyes.

"What's wrong? What happened? Why are you all doing that? John?" Sherlock asked, quickly, turning to look at John. John stood up, pulling Sherlock into a hug.

As John sat down, the applause faded, and Sherlock cleared his throat.

"Now onto some funny stories about John." He repeated. Some of the guests laughed.

"If you could all just cheer up a bit that would… be better. On we go. So, for funny stories, one has to look no further than John's blog. The record of our time together, along with his sister, my wife, Elizabeth. Of course he does tend to romanticise things a bit but then, you know, he's a romantic. We've tackled some strange cases: The Hollow Client, The Poison Giant. We've has some frustrating cases, touching cases and of course I have to mention The Elephant in the Room. But we want something very particular for this special day, don't we. The Bloody Guardsman. Private Bainbridge had just come off guard duty; he had stood there for hours, plenty of people watching and nothing apparently wrong, he came off duty and within minutes was nearly dead from a wound in his stomach but there was no weapon. Where did it go? Ladies and gentlemen, I invite you to consider this: a murderer who can walk through walls, a weapon that can vanish but in all this there is only one element which can be said to be truly remarkable. Would anyone like to make a guess?" Crickets. "Come on, come one there is actually an element of QA to all this. Scotland Yard, have you got a theory? Yeah, you, you're a detective broadly speaking, got a theory?" He asked, looking at Lestrade, who seemed surprised. He thought for a second, before answering.

"Er, um, if the, uh, if the, if-if-if, if the blade was, er, propelled through the, um …" He stopped again. "grating in the air vent ... maybe a-a ballista or a – or a – or a catapult. Erm, somebody tiny could-could crawl in there." He took a deep breath. "So, yeah, we're loo... we're looking for a-a-a-a dwarf."

"Brilliant." Sherlock complimented.

"Really?"

"No. Tom!" He said, looking to Molly's boyfriend, who had been whispering to her. "Got a theory?"

Tom stood up awkwardly. "Um ... attempted suicide, with a blade made of compacted blood and bone; broke after piercing his abdomen ... like a meat ... dagger."

I was glad Ophelia's arms were reaching up, patting my face. Made it look a bit like I was trying not to laugh because of what she was doing.

Bless his heart.

I looked to Sherlock, and to Molly, both of their faces pictures of disbelief.

"A meat dagger?" Sherlock questioned.

"Yes."

"Sit. Down." Molly gritted her teeth.

"There was one feature, and only one feature of interest in the whole of this baffling case , quite frankly it was the usual - John Watson. Who while I was trying to solve a murder, instead saved a life. There are mysteries worth solving and stories worth telling. The best and bravest man I know and on top of that he actually knows how to do stuff. Except wedding planning and serviettes he's rubbish at those. The case itself remains one of the most ingenious and brilliantly planned murder or attempted murder that I've ever had the pleasure to encounter. The most perfect locked room mystery of which I am aware. However, I'm not just here to praise John, I am also here to embarrass him so let's move on to…"

"Wait, hold on, how was it done?" Greg asked, and I saw some guests nod in unison, wondering the same thing.

"How was what done?"

"The stabbing." He clarified. Sherlock looked down.

"I'm afraid I don't know. I didn't solve that one. That's ... It can happen sometimes. It's very ... very disappointing. Embarrassment leads me on to the stag night. Of Course there's hours of material here but I've cut it down to the really good bits." He explained the case of the Mayfly man, and his and John's stag night, of course leaving out a lot...what he couldn't remember, though I _know_ that I told him about it.

"Married. Obvious really. Our Mayfly man was trying to escape the suffocating chains of domesticity and instead of endless nights him watching the telly or going to barbecues with awful, dreadful, boring people he couldn't stand,"

I was now a bit excited for the upcoming month….see how he does without me…

"... he used his wits, cleverness, powers of disguise to play the field. He was… On second thought I probably shouldn't have told you about The Elephant in the Room. However, it does help to further illustrate how invaluable John is to me. I can read a crime scene the way he can understand a human being; I used to think that's what made me special quite frankly I still do but a word to the wise should any of you require the services of either of us: I will solve your murder but it takes John Watson to save your life. Trust me on that, I should know he saved mine so many times and in so many ways.

"This blog is the story of two men and their frankly ridiculous adventures of murder, mystery and mayhem but from now on there's a new story, a bigger adventure. Ladies and gentlemen, pray charge your glasses and be upstanding. Today begin the adventures of Mary Elizabeth Watson and John Hamish Watson the two reasons why every single one of us is…" he paused, and dropped the glass, causing a few guests to jump in surprise as the waiter rushed to his side, offering him another glass. " here today. Sorry, I… Now where were we. Ah, yes raising glasses and standing up, very good, thank you, and down again." He brought his hands down and the guests sat in their seats again, hesitantly. I glanced at Greg out of the corner of my eye, and he looked at me, confused, but we stayed silent.

"Ladies and gentlemen, people tell you not to milk a good speech, get off early, leave 'em laughing. Wise advice I'll certainly try to bear in mind, but for now: part two." He jumped over the table, "Part two is more action based, I'm gonna walk around, shake things up a bit. Who'd go to a wedding, that's the question? Who would bother to go to any lengths to get themselves to a wedding? Well, everyone. Weddings are great, love a wedding. John's great too, haven't said that enough, barely scratched the surface. I could go on all night about the depth and complexity of his jumpers and he can cook. Does errr…. thing, thing with peas once. Might not be peas, might not be him. But he's got a great singing voice or somebody does. Argh, too many, too many, too many, too many." He said, stopping, and taking a breath before he continued. Something was wrong. Something was really wrong.

"Sorry, too many jokes about John. Now eh, where was I, ah yes, speech, speech. Let's talk about murder. Sorry did I say murder, I meant to say marriage, you know they're quite similar procedures when you think about it – the participants tend to know each other and it's over when one of them's dead. In fairness, murder is a lot quicker though."

I closed my eyes and sighed. Sherlock pointed at a man, and spun around to the top table.

"Janine, what about this one, acceptably hot, more importantly, his girlfriend's wearing brand new uncomfortable underwear and hasn't bothered to pick this thread off the top of his jacket or point out the grease smudge on the back of his neck, currently he's going home alone. Also, he's a comic and sci-fi geek, they're always tremendously grateful, really put the hours in." He chuckled. I was slightly offended, and glared at him. He frowned, no doubt remembering that I, too, was a comic and sci-fi fan.

"Sherlock." I sighed, and since he was somewhat close to our table, he heard me, and glared at me for just a moment, before looking at Greg.

"Geoff, the gents." He said.

"It's Greg." He corrected.

"Loos now please."

Greg's phone beeped, and he reached into his pocket.

"Why?" He asked.

"Oh I don't know, maybe it's your turn." He said, his teeth clenched slightly. Greg glanced at his phone, and excused himself.

"Sherlock, any chance of an end date for this speech? Gotta cut the cake." John mentioned from the top table.

"Oh, ladies and gentlemen, can't stand it when I finally get the chance to speak for once, Vatican Cameos."

_Oh_. It made sense now, and I sat up straight, my panic rising as I bite the inside of my cheek. I heard John and Mary talking quietly up at the front.

I looked back at Sherlock, who was grimacing, obviously trying to figure it out, and take advantage of his control over the room, yet getting nowhere. I wanted, more than anything, to make him sit down and calm down, and to rub the spot between his eyebrows, something I did when he would lie on the couch, his head in my lap as he thought, and he would furrow his eyebrows. I don't know why it kept them from furrowing, but it worked.

But I stayed in my seat, and acted like I didn't care. I was supposed to.

"No!" He shouted, slapping his left cheek. "No! Not you!" He said, his fingers pointed in the air. "Not you. You." He pointed to John, who straighten up. "it's always you, John Watson, you keep me right." He walked to the front table, and John stood up. They spoke in low voices so no one could hear, and Mary glanced at me worried. I only shrugged, and her expression changed from concern, to confusion.

"What?" She mouthed, as Sherlock continued to speak in the background.

I shook my head, rolling my eyes. She nodded, understanding.  
"Afterwards?" I mouthed, and she nodded again, keeping my to my promise to talk to her. I could trust Mary.

" Let's play Murder." I heard Sherlock say as he stalked between the tables.

"Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson said, disapprovingly.

"Imagine someone's going to get murdered at a wedding. Who exactly would you pick?"

"I think you're a popular choice and the moment, dear." Mrs. Hudson said out loud.

"If someone could move Mrs Hudson's glass just slightly out of reach, that would be _lovely_. More importantly, who could you _only_ kill at a wedding? Most people you can kill _any_ old place. As a mental exercise, I've _often_ planned the murder of friends and colleagues." He pointed at John. "Now John I would poison, sloppy eater, dead easy, given him chemicals and compounds that way, he's never even noticed, he missed a whole Wednesday once, didn't have a clue. Lestrade's so easy to kill it's a miracle no one's succumbed to the temptation. I've got a pair of keys to my brother's house, I could easily break in there and asphyxiate him, if, if the whim arose."

I was relieved he never mentioned me, though I was curious….probably for the best. Might not want to know.

"He's pissed, isn't he?" I heard Tom ask, and I glanced over as Molly, who wasn't even looking, stabbed her fiance's hand with a plastic spoon. I stifled a giggle, and Ophelia even flashed a gummy smile, and Molly looked over, and grinned at her, ignoring Tom, who was holding his hand.

"Baby." Molly mouthed to me, referring to Tom. I smiled.

"So, once again, who could you only kill here? Clearly it's a rare opportunity, so it's someone who doesn't get out much. Someone for whom a planned social encounter known about months in advance is an exception, has to be a unique opportunity. And since killing someone in public is difficult, killing them in private isn't an option. Someone who live in an inaccessible or unknown location then. Someone, perhaps obsessed with personal security, possibly someone under threat." He stopped beside my chair.

"Sholto." He whispered, sliding a card to me, and I got a pen out, knowing what he wanted. "Ooh, a recluse, small household staff, high turnover for additional security, probably all signed confidentiality agreements"

"_It's you." _I wrote on the slip of paper, and I passed it to Sholto through Molly, who glanced at me before reading it. I only smiled sadly at him.

"There is another question that remains however, rather a big one, a huge one, how would you do it, how would you kill someone in public, there has to be a way, this has been planned."

"Mr. Holmes! Mr. Holmes!" I tiny voice begged from the back of the room. Everyone craned their necks to look at Archie who was standing on a chair, and Sherlock rushed towards him.

" Oh hello again Archie, what's your theory? Get this right and there's a headless nun in it for you."

"The invisible man could do it!" He explained, sounding as if he were talking about a superhero from a comic book.

"The who the why the what the where?" Sherlock asked quickly.

"The invisible man with the invisible knife. The one that tried to kill the guardsman."

Sherlock straightened, thinking. "Oh, not just planned. Planned and rehearsed." He muttered to himself. Sholto was walking out of the room, reaching the door as Sherlock turned to the top table, taking a glass. "Ladies and gentlemen there will now be a short interlude. To the bride and groom." He said, holding up the glass. The guests hesitantly did the same.

"To the bride and groom." They all repeated. I put my glass down.

"Would you mind watching her for just a second?" I asked Molly. She smiled and shook her head, as I passed Ophelia to her, and rushed to the top table where John and Sherlock were standing.

"What's going on?" I wondered. I knew what was going on, or had a vague idea, but I needed him to be more specific.

"Major Sholto is going to be murdered." I shook my head, waiting for him to elaborate. "I don't know how or by whom, but it's going to happen." He said, quickly turning away and making his way through the crowd. I did the same, trying to keep up with his long strides, my dress making it a bit more difficult that I would have imagined. John was right behind me, trying to keep up as well.

"What room is he in?" John asked Sherlock, then me. I shook my head, while Sherlock though, his fingers at his temples.

"I can't remember," He said.

"How can you not remember which room? You remember everything."

"207." Mary called out, coming in behind us. We ran up the stairs (something I never want to do again, not now.)

Sherlock and John got there before Mary and I, Sherlock already banging on the door, calling out Major Sholto's name.

"If someone's about to make an attempt on my life, it wouldn't be the first time. I'm ready." The Major said from behind the door.

"Major let us in." John commanded, but he refused.

"Kick the door down." Mary suggested.

"I really wouldn't." The major said. "I have a gun in my hand, and a lifetime of unfortunate reflexes."

Sherlock walked closer to the door. "You're not safe in there. Whoever's after you we know that a locked room doesn't stop him."  
"'The invisible man with the invisible knife.'"  
"I don't know how he does it, so I can't stop him, and that means he'll do it again."

"Solve it then." Sholto said.

"I-I'm sorry?"

"You're the famous Mr. Holmes. Solve the case. On you go. Tell me how he did it, and I'll open the door."

"Please, this is no time for games. Just let us in, you're in danger." John tried to reason. I stepped closer to Mary, worried, and she placed a hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. I didn't know the man personally, but I knew what he meant to John, and how much John looked up to him in his military days, and even now, despite what Major Sholto had done, which, honestly, I couldn't' entirely blame him for. He didn't know that they were all going to get killed.

And for this man that John saw as a friend to die on his wedding day?

"So are you, so long as you're here." Sherlock began to pace. "Please, leave me. Despite my reputation, I really don't approve of collateral damage."  
"Solve it." Mary said to Sherlock. He stopped pacing and turned around to look at her.

"Sorry?"

"Solve it, and he'll open the door, like he said."

"If I couldn't solve it then, how can I solve it now?" He asked.

"Because it matters now." She answered.

"What are you talking about?" He spun around ot John. "What is she talking about? Get your wife under control."

Slap him...that's all I wanted to do.

"She's right." John told him.

"Oh, you've changed!"

"No, she is. Shut up. You are _not_ a puzzle-solver – you never have been. You're a drama queen. Now, there is a man in there about to die. 'The game is on.' _Solve_ it!" He yelled, and despite the situation, I felt the corner of my lips turn up slightly at Sherlock's face as John called him a 'drama queen'. Definitely would've used it.

Sherlock was silent….eerily silent, and we sat and waited for a response. He then stepped over to Mary, grabbing her head in both hands, and kissing her forehead.

"Though, in all fairness, he's a drama queen too." He said, pointing to my brother, who seemed unphased.

"Yeah, I know." Mary nodded.

Sherlock walked up to the door. "Major Sholto, no-one's coming to kill you. I'm afraid you've already been killed several hours ago."

"What did you say?"

"Don't take off your belt." Sherlock turned back around. "His belt, yes. Bainbridge was stabbed hours before we even saw him, but it was through his belt._Tight_ belt, worn high on the waist. Very easy to push a small blade through the fabric and you wouldn't even feel it."

I looked at John. "Is that possible?" I wondered.

"The-the belt would bind the flesh together when it was tied tight …" John explained.

"Exactly." Sherlock nodded.

" ... and when you took it off …"

"Delayed action stabbing." Sherlock named it. "All the time in the world to create an alibi." He jiggled the door handle. "Major Sholto."  
"Major, he solved it. Open the door, a deal in a deal." I said, loudly so he could hear me.

"I'm not even supposed to _have_ this any more. They gave me special dispensation to keep it. I couldn't imagine life out of this uniform. I suppose – given the circumstances – I don't _have_ to. When so many want you dead, it hardly seems good manners to argue."

"Whatever you're doing in there, James, stop it, right now!" John yelled.

" Mr Holmes, you and I are similar, I think." Sholto continued.

"Yes, I think we are." Sherlock responded.

"There's a proper time to die, isn't there?"

" Of _course_ there is."

"And one should embrace it when it comes – like a soldier."

" Of _course_ one should, but not at John's _wedding_. We wouldn't _do_ that, would we – you and me? We would _never _do that to John Watson."

Sholto didn't respond, and we waited anxiously. Mary's grip on my shoulder and tightened in the last few seconds.

"I'm going to break it down." John announced, taking his jacket off.

"No, wait, you won't have to." Mary said, stopping him as the door handle shook and Major Sholto appeared.

"I believe I am in need of medical attention." He said to John.

"I believe I am your doctor."

_DONE!  
Stopping it there because I feel like I need to hurry and get it up, and there is more that I'm adding on to the end of the episode._

_Again, so sorry it's so late, and that I missed the anniversary of this story! Dang, I feel awful!_

_Reviews will be answered privately, as I feel that would be best, unless you are a guest, then they will be answered a little later, when I do the reviews for the next chapter._

_Recommendation: If you're anything like me, and like medieval, castles, knights, Kings and Queens, that sort of thing, and are interested in the music….I might not be able to help you, but do YouTube 'Medieval Music-'Hardcore' Party Mix'. You don't have to listen to it, but scroll through the comments! I was DYING! I usually don't laugh very loud, but I was hooting with laughter, and my sister came to my room and asked what was wrong. Of course when I showed her, she didn't care much for it (I assume it's because I do have an odd sense of humor, and I found it hilarious, whereas she isn't much of a fan), but give it a shot. Give the music a shot, too, if you feel like getting down, but definitely look through some of the comments. My favorite: _

It's 1066, and the Norman's are here to conquer dat booty.

(Credit to: Cskye)

_And _

I used this as part of my mixtape, they used this to burn down quarantined houses hosting the plague.

(Credit to: Warden Layn)

_Or_

Swiggity swooty, plundering and pillaging for that booty.

(Credit to:JoeRingo118)

_There are SO many more, and I don't know why the second one made me laugh so hard, it shouldn't have, but it did. :)_

_Anyway, I hope you all have been well, and i'll see you later!_

_Eruaphadriel_


	48. Chapter 48

_Writing is secret isn't easy, but it's an adventure._

_I'm grounded. Like, majorly grounded. Everything is out of my room, except for my bed and clothes, no electronics, other than the computer, and only to work on my research paper…_

_I'm sneaking books, this, and all kinds of stuff._

_But while I'm home alone, and while I'm at my dads, I decided to get stuff done!_

For the rest of the reception, Sherlock was missing, along with Jenine. I tried not to notice it, or remember it, but it was too late.

I stayed with Molly and Tom (who weren't speaking at the moment). It took all the self-control I had to stop myself from storming through the hallways, looking for him. Instead, I elected to ask Greg as he walked by me, towards the exit.

"Have you seen Sherlock?" I asked. He nodded.

"Yeah, about to go and meet him now, make an arrest. He caught the murderer." He announced, happily. "Are you coming." He wondered.

"No, no, Molly and Tom were looking for him." I said as an excuse. I heard Molly hum behind me, but we ignored her.

"Alright, well, I'll send him by afterwards." He promised. "Have you seen Jenine?"

_Thanks. _"Not recently." I didn't want to think about it.

"Certainly it's not...you know. Sherlock might not be the best husband," I scoffed a little. All show. "But he wouldn't do that." He grinned. I only rolled my eyes, but smiled back at him, as he walked away.

Ophelia was looking up at me, her tiny brows furrowed. I smiled at her, bouncing her on my hip, trying to make her smile. It wasn't working, though. She still stared at me, and reached a hand up to my face. I took her hand, placing a kiss on her tiny palm. The corners of her mouth turned up. Mission accomplished.

Sherlock emerged a few minutes later, violin in hand, placing his music on the stand in front of him. We cleared

the floor to make way for Mary and John for their first dance. The room was silent as John led his wife out onto the floor, both grinning ear to ear, their happiness contagious.

Jenine came out as well, coming to stand beside me, a smile on her face. I forced myself to smile back, and frowned when she turned her back to me, as Sherlock began to play the waltz we had danced to the same morning.

John and Mary moved gracefully across the floor, no doubt John had lessons from Sherlock, but I turned my attention to Sherlock. All of the stress of being Best Man, and helping plan the wedding, seemed to fade away, which could have been because the wedding was almost over, yet i had noticed Sherlock, every time he played, he seemed calmer and less stressed that he always did, even if he was just absentmindedly running his fingers along the strings.

The song ended, and while everybody was applauding the newly weds, I was applauding both John and Mary, and Sherlock. He grinned at me, taking the tiny buttonhole flower from the stand (so it wasn't in his way while he played), and pointed to me.

"Me?" I mouthed. He nodded, and I held out my free hand to catch it. He tossed it to me, and I was going to grab it, but a hand reached in front of me and caught it instead. I followed the arm, to find it belonged to Janine. I sighed, pursing my lips, and looking at Sherlock, who winked at me.

" Ladies and gentlemen, just, er, one last thing before the evening begins properly. Apologies for earlier. A crisis arose and was dealt with." He said into the microphone. "More importantly, however, today we saw two people make vows. Other than at my own wedding, I've never made a vow in my life.. So, here in front of you all, my second vow. Mary and John: whatever it takes, whatever happens, from now on I swear I will _always_ be there, _always_, for all three of you." He hesitated, and I saw John and Mary glance at eachother, confused. "Er, I'm sorry, I mean, I mean two of you. All _two_ of you. _Both_ of you, in fact. I've just , it's time for dancing. Play the music again, please, thank you."

The music started up again, and I saw John, Mary, and Sherlock talking in a small circle. I decided not to join them, as Ophelia became fussy, so I took her outside, ignoring Janine, who was swooning over the flowers, insisting to others that he threw them to her. And I wanted to get Ophelia away from the crowd, and loud music.

As I sat outside, rocking Ophelia, I heard the doors open and close. I turned to find Sherlock, shrugging his coat on.

"Thought you'd be dancing." I said, getting his attention, but quietly enough that I didn't wake Ophelia.

He shrugged. "No one to dance with. My prefered dance partner went outside before I could ask her." He answered, walking towards the bench I was sitting on. "Sorry about the flowers, by the way."

It was my turn to shrug. "It's alright. It's the thought that counts, right?"

"I suppose."

"Are you leaving?" I wondered.

"Nothing else for me to do here, unless you would rather me stay here." I shook my head.

"I'm probably going to leave, too. Ophelia's been fussy, and I just got her to sleep." I explained.

"I can take her, if you want to say your goodbyes." He offered.

I carefully moved Ophelia from my arms to Sherlock's, before going inside.

I maneuvered through the crowd, towards my brother, who was dancing with Mary. Mary saw me first, smiling, as John turned around.

I grinned back. "Sorry. Little one's calling the shots now." I said. They nodded, understandingly, and John hugged me.

"I'm proud of you." I whispered to him, thinking of all the things he had been through. The stress of medical school, going into the army. I knew he still dreamt of the war, had nightmares, rather, and he still called me at night after he woke up, or, when he lived at Baker Street, and he would knock in my door, asking if we could just talk for a while, and get his mind off of everything. It was happening less and less often, I noticed, and he was smiling more, and now he was getting married. He had a good job, a wonderful wife, and admitted that he felt like he was finally finding his footing.

* * *

"Did you know?" I asked Sherlock during the ride home. "About John and Mary having a baby?"

Sherlock nodded.

"When did they tell you?" I wondered. The streetlight allowed me, and I saw him hesitate.

"Tonight."

"Liar." I called him out.

"I noticed."

"You noticed it?" I repeated.

"I remembered the symptoms you had, and noticed Mary going through the same. Thought I would mention it." I shook my head at him. "Should I have let them figure it out on their own?" He asked after a while. I chuckled, nodding.

"Might have been nice."

Ophelia stirred in her sleep, struggling to find a comfortable position.

"Well, maybe Ophelia will have someone to play with." He mused.

"Absolutely."

I looked towards the cabbie, and noticed he wasn't paying any attention to us. I scooted closer, leaning my head against Sherlock's shoulder. His head fell lightly on top of mine, and I closed my eyes.

"It won't be long, you know." He mumbled.

"I know." I answered. "But I'll hate every second of it." I felt him nod.

"As will I." He agreed.

"Not for long." I repeated.

"Not for long."

* * *

I had now grown accustomed to living at my brothers. Or, brother-in-law's.

Mycroft so generously opened his home to Ophelia and I, offering us the two best guest rooms in the house (though we really only needed one), buying necessities for Ophelia to keep there, such as a crib, highchair, bottles, various toys, mountains of stuffed animals (Which she adored to cuddle with, and almost hugged the life out of them), and even fashioned a cozy little nursery for her, and hired a nanny if I needed one. And every night, he would invite us to dinner, if we wished to eat with him.. He left it up to us whether we ate with him or not, but to be honest, I enjoyed Mycroft's company , and the food that was prepared.

His house, though, wasn't as large as I expected it to be. It was larger than most houses I had seen, but it was still cozy, and the surrounding countryside was a dream.

The room he offered me had a small patio outside with a few chairs, a table, and several windchimes. I had spent most of my day out there, Ophelia on a blanket on the ground, a toy in her hand as she reached for a vine hanging from one of the houses many columns.

I heard the door open and close again, craning my neck to find Mycroft stepping outside, mugs in hand.

"Sherlock said you prefer coffee in the mornings." He handed me a mug, and I thanked him, sipping it to find it was made exactly the way I liked it. Mycroft shrugged.

"He bothered me; went on and on about how I needed to make it exactly the way you made it. Were it possible, I would say my brother feels bad about the whole situation."

"He should." I agreed. "It's his fault." Mycroft chuckled.

"He has grown softer, though, since you two have been together." He observed, taking a drink of his tea.

"Is that a bad thing?" I wondered.

"Depends, I suppose." He answered.

"WHat do you think?"

"Honestly?"

"You've never held back before." I reminded.

He sighed. "I don't like it. Makes him vulnerable." He nodded. I asked for honestly, I couldn't be upset. "But I'm sure you don't mind."

"Less of a pain in my rear, sometimes." I admitted.

"I'm sure he would just love to hear you say that."

"Let's call him;roast him."

Mycroft shook his head, watching Ophelia, as we sat in silence.

"You should call him." He suggested.

I shook my head. He took a deep breath, then sighed.

"Alright." He nodded. "In this month, how many times have you spoken?" He wondered.

It didn't take long for me to answer. "None."

He sighed again. "What about John? Have you spoken to him about it?"

I nodded. "He was...shocked." I recalled the conversation he, Mary and I had in their rocking her niece, while John paced the kitchen. I allowed myself to cry a little, causing Mary to set Ophelia in her playpen, and rush to me, taking me in her arms, . I couldn't tell her why I was crying, but she assumed.

"Well, you'll both have to sign the papers. They're downstairs." He reminded. "I offered to take them to Sherlock myself, but he insisted on coming over. Said that he wanted to see his girls. I know, though she's young, Ophelia misses her father."

She looked at her uncle, and grinned.

Mycroft walked towards her, and scooped her up into his arms.

"Now, come on." He said to her. "You and Miss. Anthea have a play date to attend. Give your poor mother a day off, hmm?" He turned to me. "Unless you-"

I shook my head. "Go ahead."

* * *

Sherlock arrived at exactly 3:00 that afternoon, like he promised.

The doorbell rang, and rushed to get it, since Mycroft had dismissed most of the staff for the afternoon.

Sherlock seemed surprised to see me, but smiled.

"Hello there."

I saw someone standing on the street, turned towards us, so I didn't say anything. I let him inside, with a cold glare, slamming the door behind him.

Once he was inside, and the door was closed, I wrapped my arms around his neck, hugging him on my tiptoes. He returned it, pulling me closer to him in a bone crushing embrace.

"I've missed you." I muttered against his shoulder. "BUt you're crushing me."  
His grip loosened, but he still held on, not letting me out of his grasp.

"Ah, I wondered when you were going to show up." Mycroft said, walking into the room, Anthea behind him with Ophelia. When she saw her father, she held her arms out for him, and began to cry. Sherlock rushed towards her, taking her from Anthea, and calming her.

"Now that everyone's reunited," He trailed off, and we followed him to his office.

He handed Sherlock and pen and the papers, but Sherlock didn't sign.

"Everything's in order?"

"Yes." Mycroft confirmed. He still wouldn't sign.

"And after this is over, we can go back to normal?"

"The papers will have been 'lost', or shredded before anything is done with them, and you will be given another chance to sign."  
"Which I will not take."

"And everything can go back to normal. Besides, the news has already been in the papers." He reminded. "Wasn't that the plan?"

"Nope."

"Alright then. Go ahead."  
SHerlock went to sign, then stopped. "And what about Ophelia?"  
"What about her?" Mycroft asked. Sherlock sighed.

"Will I get to see her?"

"If Elizabeth allows." The brothers looked at me.

"Whenever you want to. She's your daughter."

"Then I'd be around all the time." He muttered.

"But, I'm afraid until all of this is over, you two will have to remain apart."

"Thanks for that reminder, Mycroft. Elizabeth and I really appreciate it." Sherlock sighed.

He quickly signed his name, and handed everything over to me, as I did the same.

"Congratulations. You're now officially divorced."

* * *

Sherlock woke up, and rolled himself over, groggily, looking at the other person in his bed.

Instinctively, he rolled to his other side, and went to move closer to them, but stopped himself, noticing this wasn't who he thought it was.

He was met with dark curls, instead of Elizabeth's light blond, unruly waves, and Elizabeth was, or seemed, smaller. She always slept curled up, while this person was outstretched. There was also a size and height difference between the two that he couldn't help but notice.

He sighed, rolling back over, his back to Janine. She had been staying over every so often, mostly after a movie night, which she had insisted on. Another contrast between the two. SHe insisted on movie nights, and watching romantic comedies, while Elizabeth rarely ever insisted on anything so trivial, and watched anything but a romantic comedy. He hated movie nights with Janine. For whatever reason, it always reminded him of the night he and Elizabeth watched a horror film, and later that evening, after she had a nightmare, she came down the hallway, her hair ruffled, the blankets wrapped around her shoulders. She looked like a child, and he had to admit that she looked adorable-an adjective he used for the first time that nights, and one he only used when Elizabeth or Ophelia were involved.

His thought drifted to his daughter. He knew she was in good hands, and that his brother was spoiling her rotten, but he still couldn't help but worry slightly. Janine had convinced (or had done it herself, rather) to take the crib from the bedroom. She had made a lot of physical changes around the flat, ones that Sherlock, who needed consistency and familiarity in some places in his life, was very much opposed to.

Another difference- Janine's changed were physical, while Elizabeth's weren't. Janine's could only be seen, while Elizabeth's was felt.

He groaned, slamming the pillow over his face, unable to drown out his thoughts. THey bounced around his brain, unorganized. He tried his mind Palace, but it seemed too far away. Once he was able to reach it, he found it to be cluttered, disorganized,everything was changed, through he had no part in it. He needed Elizabeth now more than ever. Just her presence alone, for whatever reason, made everything make sense, and everything was okay. Now that she was gone...he took another look around his Mind Palace, and, seeing the effects her absence had on his mind, he shot out of bed.

He grabbed some old clothes from his drawer, ones he never wore, and decided to go to the one place he hadn't been since he moved into Baker Street. All part of the plan, of course, but he decided, just moments before he left, he would break his promise.

* * *

_So, what do you think…_

_Please don't hate me…_

_Reviews:_

_(I'm going to do the ones I didn't get to last time (mostly Guest reviews), and all from the last chapter)_

OMG yay! A new chapter! :) Sorry i havent reviewed for a few chapters, school is insane right now, but I've still been reading non-stop!

Okay, so the wedding. I have seriously been looking forward to this for ages, and am excited to see where you will take the whole Janine arc (as crazy as it is, I actually quite like reading Elizabeths jealousy). This chapter definitely gave us some hints into what is to come, and I am extremely nervous yet excited, as drama will definately occur!

The scene with Sherlock and Elizabeth dancing together was seriously cute, and I loved how you managed to write that scene with the perfect amount of fluff. It is still great that Elizalock fluff is still notably occuring, as I will admit that although I love Ophelia to bits, I was afraid that the Elizabeth and Sherlock fluff would tunnel into only stuff involving the baby. So so far so good :)

Oh gosh, the indifference between Sherlock and Elizabeth within this chapter is making me so nervous for the next few chapters, normally when people cover these episodes it isnt in first person POV of the OC, so I'm quite excited to read from that view- Elizabeths view is by far my favourite to read :)

Anyways, I think thats all from me for now, but I most definitely can't wait for the story to continue, and am always excited when I open my emails and read that there is another chapter! :D Cannot wait.

~Crimson Daydreamer

_Hi dear! So awesome to see you again!_

_I understand school, believe me. I've been bogged down by it for what feels like ages now. With a research paper coming up, it was really difficult to get other things done without stressing out about it, and the whole thing was giving me anxiety-I couldn't deal!-, but I hope everything is getting better for you!_

_I have been looking forward to the wedding to, and I can assure you in the next chapter, so much jealousy, so much. I am so excited to write it! I get butterflies thinking about it! It's going to be great, especially (and probably my favorite part to write for the next chapter) when Janine sits in his lap! And of course when they kiss, several times, at the door...ah, I'm so pumped!_

_I'm trying to keep some Sherlock Elizabeth fluff in there, while also adding in a lot with Ophelia. I'm glad you think that their fluff isn't tunneling into stuff involving Ophelia. Of course I want to add that in when I can, but not too much, so I'm glad that I'm achieving some goals! Thank you!_

_I'm so glad that her POV is your favorite to read! Now that I think about it, I do'n think I have seen these two episodes covered in first person POV either, so it may be a bit of a challenge because I don't have a reference to go by, or examples to look at, and see "Well, they did this like this", or "That's interesting, well, let's see how they did it", and then try to also go my own way, while also keeping in mind what other authors did, and _**why** _they did it like that. Now I'm just kind of playing around with everything, seeing what fits, and definitely making mistakes on paper (I'm writing them in a notebook before I type them, since I have no idea what I'm going to do with this episode just yet), I'm a littler nervous, but it's alright :) I'll soldier on!_

_I hope everything is well, and, as always, thank you so much for reviewing!_

I couldn't stop smiling when Lestrade was with Ophelia. He's so good with her. And he's right when it comes to kids talking at first. It's cute, but of course, here come the "Why?" and "What's that?" I remember one of my nieces going through that phase. She didn't say "Why?" a whole lot, but she would constantly ask, "What's that?" every five seconds, even when there was literally nothing she was pointing at.

Niece: "Wha's that?!"

Me: "Um...that's the air."

Can't wait until the next chapter! The wedding is always a delight to read about. I am curious of what you're going to do regarding Janine, but I guess I'll have to wait and see. :)

~A.J Parker758

_Hello!_

_Lestrade and Ophelia are adorable! I don't know why, but I think Lestrade would be insanely good with kids. He has that fatherly...thing about him, I don't know quite how to explain it. But it's there! I can see it!_

_Oh, honey! I have two younger cousins, a boy (the oldest), and a girl. I was kind of young when my first cousin was born, so I really don't remember a lot about him, and I don't remember him going through the whole "why" phase (thank God!), but I remember his sister's. I can't remember how old she was, but it wasn't too long ago (last year, perhaps), when she came over. One of our dogs had taken their toy, and somehow put it on the piano bench. She noticed, and asked why it was there._

"_One of the dogs must have put it there." I answered. SHe looked confused._

"_But why would he do that?"_

"_I don't know." I shook my head. She stayed silent for a minute._

"_Maybe he put it up there…" At this point, call me a bad cousin all you want to, I kind of zoned out._

"_Maybe he did."_

_She dropped the subject. Then turned back to me._

"_Why do you think he would do that."_

"_I don't know."_

_This went on for several minutes, until finally, I was getting upset._

"_I don't know, maybe I'll ask him."_

_She giggled. "You can't speak dog!"_

"_Oh, yeah, I can."_

"_You can?" She asked, surprised. I nodded._

_And we went on. I felt bad for lying to her. Though, I like to call it, giving her a little more magic to believe in. She's young. Magic is real. People can talk to animals…_

_BUt I remember her doing things like that so vividly, I don't know why, but I do. And my mom works with young kids (Early head start), so I see it all the time when I'm in the classroom with her._

_That's funny that your niece points out obvious things, though! I imagine a lot of children do at that age, but they're curious. As they grow, they become more aware, and they're like sponges, they just want to soak up all the information that they can! Kind of adorable..annoying, yet adorable._

_I'm sorry, I could go on about kids all day long if you let me (blame my mother… she does the same thing to me. I know more about kids that I ever dreamed of knowing!)_

_Thank you for reviewing!_

chapter 18 .

I love how you always put the cabbies' reactions to things going on in the back!

chapter 20 .

This is SO awesome!

chapter 21 .

I think it would have been amazing if Mycroft pointed out the ring when he went round to Baker Street! It was still amazing though! And send Sherlock and Elizabeth my congratulations! LOL

chapter 26 .

This gave me a thought; how's this going to change 'Coz Last Vow'? Oooo!

chapter 27 .

R.B. Richard Brook

Amazing deduction from yours truly! ;)

chapter 34 .

I'm actually quite looking forward to reading your Elizabeth version of Reichenbach!

chapter 39 .

Glad you had a good Christmas, despite me reviewing four months after!

chapter 43 .

This was a really good chapter! I especially like that Mary paid no attention to the fact Elizabeth was practically screaming in her ear! And I like the name Ophelia. :)

chapter 44 .

Oh this is going to be good!

chapter 47 . Mar 31

YES! This is such a brilliant story! (I'm actually surprised I haven't called it that very often! I usually call every story I read brilliant. Suppose I just have very good taste!) Anyway, can't wait for your adaptation of 'Coz Last Vow', especially with Janine. :)

~Red (Guest)

_Aww, thank you so much for all of your reviews, you're amazing deductions, congratulations, and your thoughts and kind words. They truly mean a lot to me!_

_Don't worry about the time that you review, either! It's still Christmas to me :)_

_And the cabbies reactions are probably some of my favorites to write. They don't get a lot of credit, other than the copious amounts of money the trio seems to have on them, so I thought writing them in would be nice._

_I'm so glad you're enjoying it, hopefully as much as I am enjoying your reviews, and I hope to get to speak to you again!_

Smith chapter 45 .

So, I noticed that you have atmleast 5 typos in each chapter. Other than that, I love what you're doing with this fan fiction. The characters are believable people and I know most writers have issues with that. I can't wait to see your next chapter. Keep up the good work!

_Hi, Smith! Thank you for the review!_

_I don't know how typos come about, really. I type in Google Docs, and it usually highlights every typo that I have. I have been trying recently to go through and check for them more than I used to. I'm sorry for all of them._

_Thank you so much for your review! I'm glad you're enjoying it, and that you think the characters are believable. That's something, I think, that I've been struggling with, especially in the past, and, while writing my own novel, it seems I'm still not really over that bit of worry and doubt that I have about my characters, so that really gave me a lot of confidence, and made me feel better about my writing! Thank you!_

Breanna chapter 44 .

Why don't you make the Christmas episode a bed time story?

_That's an interesting thought! Something that may be a bit difficult, but I like challenges in writing! Will definitely keep that in mind ;)_

_Thank you!_

_KD _chapter 45 . Feb 19

A drunk Sherlock and John make me laugh! They're too funny! I can't wait for the next one!

_Me too! Aren't they just hilarious! When I watched the episode for the first time, I was rolling! Especially at Sherlock's deductions, and Lestrade yelling in their ears the morning after! Incredibly funny! Thank you!_

Guest chapter 45 .

Hey this is the same person who suggest the baby name :) but anyway, I really want to see Elizabeth and Ophelia does on the last episode of season 3 which is His Last Vow. Like when Sherlock was shot by Mary and then she was shocked that her best friend almost kill her husband. Like so dramatic but I love your story so far _

_Our winner! So lovely to see you again! I'm glad you love it, and i can't wait to write those bits. I already have a little plan for them, so I'll see where that goes._

_Also, thank you again for the baby name! I adore it! At first, I'll admit, it was a little weary about it, but it's one of those that grows on you, I think. Love it! _

_(and if you still want your reward, it's totally still open! Just say the words!)_

_Thank you!_

_Well, that's all folks! I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I'll see you later!_

_~EruaphadrielXxx_


	49. Chapter 49

_We're finally on His Last Vow…_

_ANd I'm finally ungrounded! Whoo!_

_I have come to a decision: I WILL be doing The Abominable Bride, and I'm SO excited, considering it's my absolute favorite episode, and I love the 1800's! So writing my favorite characters in the 1800's, and writing my favorite episode = a dream!_

_Sadly, though, this means that Another Watson will be dormant until Season 4, which is coming out NEXT F_cking YEAR!_

_Don't despair, though! I will still be doing one shots, and I'll actually take requests for those! I just won't be doing any episodes for a while after this..._

Mycroft left for a meeting early in the morning, and informed me that he planned to be away for a few days to a week. He left the whole staff at my disposal, order anyone I wanted, or even fire anyone who didn't satisfy me. I didn't plan to go that far, but that's the kind of power he put in my hands, and it was terrifying, and not gratifying at all that the staff knows that, and walk with their heads down, with a nod my directing, and a frightened smile. I hated it.

So, instead, I dismissed them, and went to John's for the afternoon. Mary had invited me over earlier in the week, and I finally decided to get out of the house.

I sat with Mary and John after dinner, Ophelia asleep in John's arms, all of us avoiding talking about the divorce. John, though, decided to bring it up.

"You never told us why, though." He reminded. I didn't know why-we never discussed it, just planned to avoid the topic all together. "Did he hurt you? Did he hurt Ophelia? I swear to God if he laid a finger on either one of you," He trailed off. His voice was getting louder and louder with every word, and by the end of the sentence, he was yelling.

"No, It's just…" I thought for a second. What could I say, that might be redeemable…

"It's probably not something she want to talk about, John." mary reminded. I smiled at her, gratefully.

John nodded. "Of course. Sorry."

* * *

My phone vibrating on the table beside me woke me up. I patted the table, trying to locate it, my eyes still half-closed, my vision blurry.

"Hello?" I groaned.

"Hey." It was ary. "Look, I know you two aren't really on speaking terms right now, but I thought you should know."

"Okay?" I sat up.

"Long story short ,we found Sherlock in a drug den."

I knew this would happen. It was all part of the plan.

"Was he clean?" I wondered. Surely he wasn't...he promised he would stay clean.

"We're waiting for the results now."

"Barts?" I asked.

"Yeah."

I threw the blankets off. Heading towards the closet. "I'm on my way."  
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" She asked.  
"I'll be fine." She sighed.

"Alright, well, text me when you get here."  
"Will do." And I hung up. "Mrs. Crook." I yelled. Mycroft had hired a nanny for Ophelia while we were there. I rarely had needed her, so she resorted to making my bed, bottles for Ophelia, and occasionally changing her diaper when I couldn't.

"Yes ma'am?" SHe asked, coming into the room, a dustpan and broom in her hand.

"Would you mind watching her for a couple of hours?" I asked. She grinned.

"Not at all." She scooped her up from her crib, and Ophelia smiled back at her, as they walked out of the room, Mrs. Crook talking to her the whole time.

I left the house as soon as I could, barely remembering to put shoes on, and tapped my foot anxiously against the taxi's floor.

When I walked in, Sherlock furrowed his brows, and spun around to John.

"You called Elizabeth?" He asked, rudely.

"Mary called me." I answered. "She thought I had a right not know."

"She was wrong." He muttered.

"She was far from wrong." This was mostly for show, but I was still incredibly angry, and I'm sure part of it seeped through. "I think I should know that my daughter's father, the man who wanted to see her more often, and let her stay with him every once in awhile, was back into drugs."

He opened his mouth to answer, when the door opened, and Molly appeared, snapping off her gloves.

"Is he clean?" John wondered.

"Clean?" She repeated. Her hand met his face with a loud crack, and his head snapped to one side, then the other, as she hit him twice more.

"How dare you throw the beautiful gifts you were born with, and how dare you betray the love of your friends. Say you're sorry." She ordered.

"I'm sorry your engagement's over, though I'm fairly grateful for the lack of a ring." Sherlock answered.

"Stop it. Just stop it." She said, and I was surprised that her voice did not shake, at least not with embarrassment. Her voice was shaking with anger,instead.

"If you were anything near this sort of thing again, you could have called, you could have talked to me." John stepped forwards.

"Please, do relax, this is all for a case.

"A ca- What kind of case would need you doing this?" I wondered. He turned to look at me again. He looked awful. His clothes, jogging bottoms and a hoodie that was much too big for him, were dirty, he looked like he hadn't showered, shaved, or slept in days. He turned back to John.

"I might as well ask you why you've started cycling to work."

"No, we're not playing this game." John said.

"Quite recently, I'd say. You're very determined about it." Sherlock continued, ignoring my brother's protests.

"Not interested." John responded.

"I am." Someone spoke up. I spun around to find a dirty man sitting on the counter, Mary, still in her dressing gown, wrapping a bandage around his arm. "Ow." He looked at Mary. She sighed.

"Sorry, you moved. But it is just a sprain."

"Yeah, somebody 'it me." He remembered.

"Huh?"

"Eh, just some guy."

"Yeah, probably an addict in need of a fix." John chimed in.

"Yes, I think in a way it was." Sherlock said quietly, obviously with another meaning behind his words, but I didn't catch on. Instead of asking, I ignored it, nor would I have had the chance as the mystery man spoke again.

"Is it his shirt?" He asked. Sherlock spun around to him.

"I'm sorry?" He asked.

"Well, it's the creases in it?" He asked, though he sounded confident. "Two creases down the front. It's been recently folded, but it's not new. Must have dressed in a hurry this morning, so all your shirts must be kept like that. But why? Maybe 'cause you cycle to work every morning, shower when you get there, and then dress in the clothes you brought with you." I looked at Sherlock, who was obviously impressed, an expression which was arely seen on his face. "You keep your shirts folded," He continued. "Ready to pack."

"Not bad." Sherlock complimented.

"And I further deduce…" He went on. "You've only started recently because you've got a bit of chafing."

"No-he's always walked like that. Remind me-what's your name again?"

"They call me The Wig." He answered.

"No they don't." Sherlock responded.

"Well, they call me Wiggy." He tried again.

"Nope."

"Bill. Bill Wiggins." He looked at his feet.

"Nice observational skills, _Billy._" Sherlock said as his phone sounded a text alert. He took it out and looked at it. "Ah! Finally!" he said, hopping off the counter.

"Good news?" I wondered.

"Oh, excellent news-the best." He walked towards the door, still staring at his phone. "There's every chance that my drug habit might hit the newspapers. The game is on. Excuse me, for a second." he said, and he closed the door, putting his phone to his ear.

I sighed. He promised he would stay clean, if it came to the point that he thought he might need another pressure point, and he wasn't near clean, according to Molly.

John walke to me. I had planned to go back to Mycroft's, but he caught my arm as I tried to walk away.

"Mary's taking the boy's home, since these other two are…" I nodded, understanding that they were also incredibly high. "Would you mind helping me at least get him to the flat?" he asked. I thought, and nodded, not wanting to miss spending whatever time I could with both of them, and we loaded Sherlock into a taxi.

I sent a text to Mycroft, explaining the situation, but John had already called him, and he was on his way to our-Sherlock's-flat.

Sherlock was wedged between John and I, reeking of sweat, absolutely filthy, as if he hadn't showered in days. I made sure that was the first thing I would force him to do. The second, was provide an explanation, and it had better be a good one.

John talked the whole ride, furious with the man sitting next to him, who had been silent the whole ride, until John stopped for a breath.

"Wait, weren't there other people?" he asked.

"Mary's taking the boys home, We're taking you. We did discuss it."

"People were talking, none of them me, I must have filtered."

"We noticed." I murmured.

"I have to filter out a lot of witless babble. I've got Mrs. Hudson on a semi-permanent mute."

"I noticed that, too." I said, as we pulled up in front of the flat.

"What is my brother doing here." he said, pushing past me to get out of the taxi, John catching my arm before I face planted into the concrete.

"So, I'll just pay then shall I? And be careful! Almost knocked my sister down." John yelled after him, handing money to the cabbie, and leading my to the door, his hand still on my arm.

"He's straightened the knocker." Sherlock informed up, glaring at it. "He always corrects it. He's OCD. Doesn't even know he's doing it." He pushed it back to one side

"Why'd you do that?" John asked.

"Do what?" Sherlock wondered, walking inside.

"Nothing."

We stepped in, and immediately I tried to suppress a smile. The faint smell of tea, and the various candles Mrs. Hudson set out in the hall on the mantle of the small furnace by the stairs, the creaking of the floorboards, the dimly lit foyer, and the worn stairs. I missed it, and couldn't wait until I could come back.

"Well, then, Sherlock. Back on the sauce?" Mycroft asked when we got inside. He was sitting on the steps, umbrella in hand, smiling at his younger brother.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked, annoyed.

"I phoned him." John answered

"The siren call of old habits. How very like Uncle Rudy-though, in many ways, cross dressing would have been a wiser path for you." Mycroft continued.

"You phoned hm. Sherlock said to John, crossing his arms.

"'Course I bloody phones him."

"'Course he bloody did. Now, save me a little time. Where should we be looking?"

"'We'?" Sherlock wondered.

"Mr. Holmes?" Said a voice from upstairs, and I knew who it was. Anderson.

"For God's sake." Sherlock stormed up the stairs, John and Mycroft following after him. I heard a door shut, and looked over to find Mrs. Hudson, rubber gloves on her hands, and a huge smile on her face.

"Elizabeth?" She asked, her smile fading, confused. "What are you doing here?"

"Sherlock...John needed some help getting him home." I said, trying to be as vague as possible. Luckily, she didn't press me for any more answered, and grinned again.

"Please, come in." She ushered me to her flat, and I couldn't say no. I wasn't in the mood for Sherlock and his brother's arguing, nor did I want to see Anderson. Staying downstairs might be a good option, and Mrs. Hudson wouldn't take no for an answer. I hadn't talked to her after I moved out.

SHe made tea, and rambled on about everything that had happened after I left. John had come over, and he and Sherlock had a bit of a 'domestic', as Mrs. Hudson called it, about the divorce, and Sherlock had some guests over, but she didn't know who they were.

She asked about Ophelia, who she had adopted in her heart as a granddaughter, and I showed her recent pictures and videos of my daughter, that made Mrs. Hudson smile and laugh, and her eyes tear up as she told me how much she misses having her around, and babysitting. I promised to let her do it more often.

I heard a large bang from upstairs, and I promised to check in later.

I passed Mycroft on the stairs, and he smiled at me.

"John is catching up. I estimate that in a few days, you will be moving back in.

I grinned. "Good to hear. Thank you."

He smiled again, patting my shoulder, before going back down.

"Magnussen?" I heard John asked as I walked into the living room. Sherlock looked shocked to see me, but the shock quickly faded.

"What time is it?" he asked me.

"Around eight." I answered. "You need a bath."

He nodded. "I'm meeting him in three hours. Plenty of time to get ready." He said, walking towards the bathroom.

"It's for a case, you said."

"Yep."

"What sort of case?" John wondered.

"One too big and dangerous for any sane individual." Sherlock answered.

"Are you trying to put me off?"

"God, no." Sherlock said. "Trying to recruit you. You too, Elizabeth." He said, and John, startled, looked between us.

"And stay out of my bedroom!" Sherlock called from behind the bathroom door.

I looked at John, who was already moving to the bedroom. I took a look around the flat. Nothing was different, but something was off. I couldn't put my finger on it, then I looked at the coat rack, and saw a purse hanging from one of the hooks. At first, I thought there must have been one I forgot, but at a closer look, I realized I didn't own a purse like this, it was someone else's.

I wondered who's, but I get my answer when I heard the bedroom door open, and someone chuckle, nervously.

"Oh, John, hi." Janine said. "How are you?"

"Janine?" John asked, and I clenched my teeth. This wasn't part of the plan, either. He's going way off script.

"Sorry. Not dressed."

Now I was almost running to the kitchen, finding Janine dressed in only a button down shirt, that looked a lot like one of Sherlock's. I was prepared to kill.

"Has everyone gone? I heard shouting." She said, walking into the kitchen.

"Yes, they're gone." John answered.

"God, look at the time. I'll be late." She announced. "Sounded like an argument." Janine observed. "Was it Myc?"

"Myc?"

"Myc, yeah, his brother, Myc. Elizabeth lives with him. They're always fighting."

"Mycroft." I said. She turned to me and laughed.

"Do people really call him that?"

"Well, it is his name." I responded.

"Huh." Her smile fell. "Oh, would you be a love and put some coffee on?" She asked.

I stepped towards where everything was, but she stopped me.

"Oh, it's over there, now." She pointed to the other side of the kitchen. I sighed, moving over, fighting the urge to glare at her.

"Sure." I nodded, a servant in my own home...kind of.

"Thanks." She turned to John, asking about married life, and his new wife.

"We're both fine, yeah." John answered.

"Where's Sherl?" She asked.

"Sherl!" John breathed, laughing. He cleared his throat. "He's having a bath. I'm sure he'll be out in a minute." He answered.

"Oh, like he ever is." She said, and I heard her barefeet padding down the hallway, towards the bathroom.

THe door opened, and I heard them both talking, and giggling before it shut again. I forgot about the coffee, slamming the cabinet shut.

"Wow." I sighed.

"Elizabeth? You okay?" John asked behind me, and I heard him walking closer to me.

"Yeah, just peachy." I answered, sarcastically.

"Do you want me to take you home?" he wondered.

I shook my head. I wanted answered.

"Alright." He said.

* * *

_Tada!_

_So, I promised to answer some questions, like I did a while ago for my birthday, to celebrate the one year anniversary of this story. If you have any, send them in! I'll answer 20 questions (maybe more, if I feel like it, but not much more) in the next chapter!  
Again, I apologize for the delay, I feel awful…_

_Reviews:_

Wow, what did you do to warrant that much grounding? Steal the Declaration of Independence? Being grounded sucks; lucky for me I'm too old to get grounded anymore...just bring dishonor and disappointment to my family. Which is kind of worse. :/

Hahaha! Awww, your story regarding the conversation with your cousin was adorable. She doesn't understand how the dog put her toy on the piano bench, but she can perfectly grasp that dogs can't talk? Like, what? XD

When you have younger relatives, it's practically an adventure, and you end up with a lot of stories to tell...especially when you have two nieces, a nephew, eleven cousins, seven second cousins, five dogs, and work a job in childcare. (It's just as crazy as you can imagine).

I was actually very relieved after reading this chapter, in regards to the whole Janine debacle. Because at first, I was afraid that Elizabeth wasn't going to be in on the plan, and Sherlock would just up and leave her and Ophelia with no explanation or something like that. But no, it's all good.

On the bright side, at least Mycroft and Anthea get to spend some quality time with Elizabeth and Ophelia. And it's sweet to see Sherlock think about his girls and miss them; seeing how them being away from him is effecting him and his mind palace.

~A.J. Parker758

_You would think I had stolen the Declaration. I couldn't be left home alone by myself, no internet, no technology….I could watch Tv, though, which was odd._

_It ended up being an okay thing, though, because I'm going through my things, and my grandmother is having a yard sale, so I'm putting some things in that, and getting rid of a lot of junk that I didn't need or use anyway. Also, I got to enjoy a lovely camping trip without having to worry about charging my phone, or my iPod, and my grandmother and I got to talk, and bond, and ride bikes through trails, and it was actually really nice being unplugged for a while. If you can, I would highly recommend trying it, at least for a week. I'm also getting into gardening, and planting my own little herb garden in the backyard, since I've been outside more, and feeding friendly crows! Which is going to be really fun! So, while it sucked, it wasn't too bad._

_And that was super long...sorry :/_

_Younger family members are a blessing! We went camping with the two cousins I've referenced before, and it was a blast riding through trails, and racing around the campground!_

_My mom works as a Head Start teacher, and some of the things she tells me (of course without giving out more information than she should.) She comes home with stains on her shirt, from food or paint, or sometimes even a new shirt, because someone decided to vomit/pee/poop on it...I would lose my mind! I praise anyone in childcare, because I could never do it! That takes some serious patience, patience that this curmudgeon does not have!_

_Elizabeth was totally in on most of the plan, as we see. Nothing about Janine was said (which I think would be more fun to write), so the next chapter is going to be a doozy._

_I didn't want to write Sherlock like that, either, and I think it makes more sense if Elizabeth were to know. I don't know why, but I do. The scene with Sherlock missing his girls was a bit tedious to write, because of the way he thinks-I don't think I could mimic it, so I kind of took advantage of him just waking up, and being a little groggy, and hoped it would be alright! I'm glad you liked it! And I love writing Mycroft and Anthea in, too! I lowkey ship them…._

_As always, thank you so much for your review, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!_

_~Eruaphadriel _


	50. Chapter 50

_Another long wait, I know, but now I'm out of school, so I'll have a lot more time to write!_

_Also, I'm looking for someone who might be interested in looking over and helping edit The Abominable Bride when I start writing it. It will be one complete chapter, not broken up like the episodes usually are._

"So, It's just a guess, you probably have some questions." Sherlock said, dressed, and walking towards his chair while John and I sat on the edge of the coffee table.

"Yeah, one or two, pretty much." John answered.

"Naturally."

"You have a girlfriend?" John blurted.

"Yes, I have. Now, Magnussen. Magnussen is like a shark – it's the only way I can describe him. Have you ever been to the shark tank at the London Aquarium, John – stood up close to the glass? Those floating flat faces, those dead eyes ... That's what he is. I've dealt with murderers, psychopaths, terrorists, serial killers. None of them can turn my stomach like Charles Augustus Magnussen."

"Yes, you have?" John answered, not listening to Sherlock.

"Sorry, what?"

"You have a girlfriend?" John asked again,

"What? Yes! Yes, I'm going out with Janine. I thought that was _fairly_ obvious." He answered.

"Yes. Well ... yes." I cleared my throat. "But I mean you, you, you ... are in a relationship?"

"Yes, I am."  
"You and Janine." I went on.

" Mmm, yes. Me and Janine."

"Care to elaborate?" John asked.

"Well, we're in a good place. It's, um...very affirming."

"You got that from a book." John pointed out.

"Everyone got that from a book." Sherlock answered, as Janine came into the room. John stood, but I remained seated.

"Okay, you two bad boys, behave yourselves." She said, and Sherlock smiled at her as she sat in his lap. He put an arm around her, as she leaned in.

"And you, Sherl, you're gonna have to tell me where you were last night." She said.

"Working." He answered.

"Working? Of course. I'm the only one who really knows what you're like, remember?"

I quickly stood from the table, and stomped towards the kitchen, grabbing a mug, and making some coffee.

I heard the door slam shut, and I turned the corner, mug in hand, to find Janine gone, Sherlock standing by the door, and John taking interest in the ceiling.

Sherlock, upon seeing me, smiled, and walked towards me, his arms outstretched. I put a hand out, stopping him, and he frowned.

"Really?" I asked, angrily.  
"What?"  
"Janine." I said, walking towards the couch. "Wasn't part of the plan. At least that I can recall."

"What plan?" John wondered.

"I know, I know." he sighed. "But it's important."  
"Important?" I asked, in disbelief. "How is you dating Janine important, unless-"

"Not like that." He answered, cutting me off. His eyes cut to John, who was confused, but not seemingly paying any attention to our conversation.

"She's Magnussen's PA."

"Okay." I nodded, then shook my head. "What does that matter. It's not like she's going to tell you anything. No doubt she has signed some kind of confidentiality agreement, or something similar."  
"No, she wouldn't, but if we plan to break into the office tonight, we'll need to get in somehow without breaking windows, and making a scene."

"So you're going to use her…" I trailed off, nodding.

"Precisely."

"Isn't there some other way you could do that, though. Like, try to be her best friend, or something. She sat in my spot." I argued. I saw the corners of his mouth began to rise into a smile.

"Your spot?" he questioned.

"Who else sits there? Who else do you allow to sit in your lap, other than me?"

"Ophelia." He answered.

"She can barely sit up on her own, so she doesn't count. And she doesn't usually sit there voluntarily, you put her there." I argued with him again.

He rolled his eyes, but his smile widened, and he wrapped his arms around my shoulders, ignoring the hug mug of coffee.

"I've missed you." He mummered so low, I almost didn't hear him. I peeked over his shoulder, at John, who's confusion was almost comical as I wrapped my arms around Sherlock's torso.  
"Alright, someone is going to have to explain." He demanded.

Sherlock took a deep breath, pulling away, before turning to John.

"How much do you want to know."

"Well, everything would be nice." John said.

"Elizabeth and I aren't actually divorced, it's just a lie to create fake pressure points for the both of us, so were the drugs."

"You were supposed to stay clean." I murmured. He turned to me.

"I'm surrounded by drugs, incredibly bored-what did you think I was going to do?" He asked. I shrugged, and he turned back to John.

"What about Janine?" John asked. "Does she know?"  
"She has no clue." Sherlock answered.

"Jesus, Sherlock." John sighed. "So why…" he gestured to the door, shaking his head.

Sherlock sighed this time, and sat back down in his chair.

"You're allowed to have your spot back if you want it." He offered, holding out his arms. I walked that direction, only to sit down in the dining chair beside his.

"Where's John's chair?" I asked, just noticing it was missing.

"He moved it. Wanted to see the kitchen, or so he said." John answered. Sherlock shrugged in response.

"Anyway," Sherlock began. "You know Magnussen as a newspaper owner, but he's _so_ much more than that." He continued. "He uses his power and wealth to gain information. The more he acquires, the greater his wealth and power. I'm not exaggerating when I say that he knows the critical pressure point on every person of note or influence in the whole of the Western world and probably beyond. That's why Elizabeth and I are faking a divorce, and you found me in a drug den. He is the Napoleon of blackmail …" Sherlock said, sitting at the table beside me, and typing on his computer. I leaned over, to see what he was doing, finding a photo of a very nice looking house pulled up with blueprints, and he turned it to me, then to John.

" ... and he has created an unassailable architecture of forbidden knowledge. Its name is Appledore. It is the greatest repository of sensitive and dangerous information anywhere in the world, the Alexandrian Library of secrets and scandals – and _none_ of it is on a computer. He's smart – computers can be hacked. It's all on hard copy in vaults underneath that house; and as long as it is, the personal freedom of _anyone_ you've ever met is a fantasy."

"Sounds fun." I muttered into my mug, taking a sip of coffee.

Someone knocked on the living room door, and Mrs. Hudson came in, pointing down the stairs.

"Oh, that was the doorbell, didn't you hear it?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"It's in the fridge. It kept ringing." Sherlock answered.

"Oh, Sherlock, that's not a fault." She whined.

"Who is it?"

* * *

Three men clad in black suits and earpieces walked up the stairs, into the living room, where John, Sherlock and I stood in front of the fireplace.

Sherlock spread his arms, and one of the men searched him. Another stood in front of me, waiting, and I did the same, allowing them to pat me down as well.

"Can i have a moment?" John asked one of the men.

"Oh, he's fine." Sherlock spoke up, lowering his arms.

"Er, I…" John stuttered. "Right, I should probably tell you…" he was cut off, and I looked over, as the man pulled a pocket knife from John's jacket.

"Okay, I...that." John pointed at the knife, as the man searched him again, and yanked a tyre lever from John.

"That doesn't mean I'm not pleased to see you." John said to the man, as the man stared back at him sternly.

"I can vouch for this man, he's a doctor. If you know who I am, you know who he is." Sherlock told him. "Don't you, Mr Magnussen?" He asked, as someone stepped into the room. "I understood we were meeting in your office."

"This is my office." Magnussen said, looking around, walking towards the sofa, and stopping, staring at John and I. "Well, it is now." he sat down.

"Magnussen, I have been asked to intercede with you by Lady Elizabeth Smallwood on a matter of her husband's letters." Sherlock began. "Some time ago you...put pressure on her concerning those letters. She would like those letters back. Obviously the letters no longer have any practical use to you, so with that in mind…"

Magnussen let out a snort.

"Something I said?" Sherlock huffed.

"Sorry." Magnussen apologized. "Sorry, you were probably talking." He said, rudely. I looked at Sherlock, who was already becoming aggravated, but tried not to show it.

"I...I was trying to explain on the behalf of…"

"Bathroom?" Magnussen asked one of his guards, interrupting Sherlock.

"Along from the kitchen, sir." One of them answered.

"Okay." He replied.

"I've been asked to negotiate the return of those letters." He finished. Magnussen took his glasses off, looking out the window. "I am aware you don't make copies of sensitive documents…"

"Is it like the rest of the flat?" Magnussen looked at the guard.

"Sir?" The man asked.

"The bathroom?"

"Er, yes, sir." He answered.

"Maybe not, then." Magnussen turned his attention back to Sherlock.

"Am I acceptable to you as an intermediary?" Sherlock asked him, getting straight to his point.

Magnussen glanced out of the window again. "Lady Elizabeth Smallwood. I like her." He turned back towards up, popping his lips.

"Mr Magnussen, am I acceptable to you as an intermediary?" Sherlock repeated.

"She's English, with a spine." He pushed the coffee table away from him with his foot, standing up, while one man took the guards off from the fire place.

"Best thing about the English…" Magnussen said, moving to stand between Sherlock and John, facing the fireplace. "...you're so domesticated. All standing around, apologising, keeping your little heads down." He faced the fireplace, and I heard A zipper. I looked to John, who glanced at me and raised his eyebrows. I turned my head towards the window. "You can do whatever you like here. Noone's ever going to stop you. A nation of herbivores." he said, urinating into the fireplace. "I've interests all over the world but, er, everything starts in England. If it works here…" I heard a zip again. "...I'll try it in a real country." I turned my head back around in time to see him take a wet wipe and wipe his hands off. "The United Kingdom, huh? Petri dish to the Western world. Tell Lady Smallwood I might need those letters, so I'm going to keep them." He dropped the wipe of the floor. "Goodbye." he turned to leave, but stopped, turning back around and putting a hand into his jacket. "Anyway…" He chuckled, and pulled something out, showing us only the corner of a packet. "...they're funny." He tucked it back away, and left, the men following him.

"Jesus!" John exclaimed.

"Did you notice the one extraordinary thing he did?"

"Wh...there was a moment that kind of stuck in my mind, yeah." John gestured to the fireplace.

"Someone's going to have to clean that." I grumbled.

"Exactly." Sherlock said. :When he showed us the letters." Sherlock smiled, walking across the room.

"Okay, what does that mean?" I wondered.

"SO he's brought the letters to London-so no matter what he says, he's ready to make a deal. Now, Magnussen only makes a deal once he;s established a person's weaknesses-the 'pressure point' he calls it." He picked his coat up. "So clearly he believes I'm a drug addict and no serious threat. And, of course, because he's in town tonight, the letters will be in his safe in his London office while he's out to dinner with the Marketing Group of Great Britain from seven 'til ten."

"How-how do you know this?" John wondered.

"Because I do." Sherlock answered, simply. "Right- I'll see you both tonight." He said. "I've some shopping to do."

"What's tonight?" John called out, following Sherlock down the stairs. I trailed after him.

"I'll text you instructions. Elizabeth, need a ride? I'll be going by Mycroft's on the way." I nodded.

"Yeah, I'll text you if I'm available." John called loudly.

"You are, I checked." Sherlock responded, going out the front door.

"Don't bring a gun." Sherlock said ot John.

"Why would I bring a gun?"  
"Or a knife, or a tyre lever. Probably best not to do any arm-spraining, but we'll see how the night goes." Sherlock hailed a taxi.

"You're just assuming I'm coming along?"

"Time you got out of the house, John. Both of you, in fact." He looked John over. "You've put on seven pounds since you got married, and the cycling isn't doing it." He opened the cab door, and allowed me to get in first.

"It's actually four pounds." John corrected.

"Mary and I think seven." I nodded. "So does your sister." Sherlock shut the door. "See you later." He called, giving our destination to the driver.

"So, what's tonight?" I asked.

"We're breaking into Magnussen's office."

"Seriously?" I asked.

"Yes. It'll be fun." He said, nodding. I shook my head.

"Well, good luck."

"You're not coming?" He asked, confused.  
"Of course not."

"How come?" He wondered.

"What if I go, and we both get caught, and we both go to jail. Ophelia would be left without parents." I said. He nodded. "And, you'll have someone to convince your brother to bail you out." I added.

"True, but we're not going to get caught." He said confidently.

"Alright, but I don't want to take the chance. And I haven't seen her all day."

He hummed. "I haven't seen her in two weeks."

"It's not a competition. And you're more than welcome to come inside." I said as the cab stopped in front of Mycroft's house.

"I might just do that."

* * *

I held Ophelia, my legs propped up on the coffee table to she could lean back against them, and she giggled as I tickled her lightly, making my smile widen.

"Any word from either one of them?" Mycroft asked, a baby blanket in hand. He held it out for me.

"Not a thing." I answered, then looked at the blanket. "Where had this been?" I wondered. It was Ophelia's favorite, and the one Sherlock's parents gave us at the shower, with 'Holmes' embroidered on the corner.

"I knew you wanted to get her name embroidered onto it, so we had it done." Mycroft answered. Confused, I unfolded it to find 'Ophelia' embroidered over her last name. I grinned.

"Thank you, Mycroft. How much do I owe you?" I wondered, looking for my bag.

"Nothing. A gift for my niece." He said, and my phone rang. Mycroft picked it up, handing it to me, but I shook my head.

"You can answer it." I told him, knowing by the time I stood the grab it, and rearranged Ophelia in my lap, the person on the other line would have already hung up.

"Elizabeth's phone." Mycroft answered. I I picked the blanket back up, wrapped Ophelia's blanket around her, and she grinned at the sight of it. Mycroft walked across the room to me, handing me the phone.

"It's John." He said, and I took the phone as Mycroft took Ophelia.

"Hey, how'd it go?" I asked.

"Sherlock's been shot."

* * *

_Hello! A bit of a short chapter, but I felt like I needed to leave it there._

_Reviews: (Doing it a little different, and not posting the entire review-just my response.)_

_Red(Guest): __I hope this chapter is to your liking, even if it's a little shorter…:/ Thank you for the wonderful compliment and review!_

_DisenchantedHeartache: Thank you for the review, and for the constructive criticism! Elizabeth IS English, but I am American, so her lingo and such may seem a bit American, but. I AM brushing up on it, though, and incorporating it into my normal everyday speech, causing confusion and some eyerolls from my family when I tell them the British slang I've learned, and then say it, like it's nothing, and I've been saying it forever. _

_Sherlock having a bit of 'multiple personalities' as you put it, was a bit of a...confusing decision for me, and a bit long explanation, but I'll try to compress it anyway that I can._

_I like personalities, and learning about personalities, and I found Meyer-Briggs personality types. After I found out what type I am (INFJ), I started looking into my favorite characters, and read what people may have thought they were out of the 16 different types (Molly Hooper and I are the same! Whoo hoo!) Sherlock was one of the ones I did a lot of research on, and found he fit, mostly, the INTP, but he also, really fit the INTJ as well (I can't decide which I believe). I read an article from a woman (who was actually names Elizabeth, which I thought was pretty funny) who married an INTJ, and said he was '...self-assured, intelligent, wonderfully sarcastic, and aloof.' which sounds a lot like Sherlock. She went on to say that he has taught her to separate herself from the emotions of others, and that he is less emotionally afflicted, unaware how someone may receive something he says, and that he can come off cold, but he's much sweeter than people really expect or see, so I went off of that, and the fact that I personally believe he would be, behind closed doors, and with the right person, so it was a bit of my plan._

_And there's a bit more to it, but that's one of the main reasons._

_Thank you for your review, I love criticisms, like I said, it makes me a better writer, and I don't think you were being very nit pickish at all!_

~Eruaphadriel


	51. Chapter 51

_This chapter is done a little differently, and I'm a little worried about it, but lets try it! Geronimo!_

_Also, some notes at the bottom..._

An alarm blared, and Magnussen's room darkened, Magnussen and Mary disappearing, and Molly standing in front of him, wearing her lab coat.

"It's not like it is in the movies." She said, walking behind Sherlock. "There's not a great spurt of blood and you go flying backwards." She walked back in front of him, and the room went form dark, to a bright white. "The impact isn't spread over a wide area."

There was a table in the middle of the room, which had become a mortuary, and she walked beside it.

"It's tightly focused, so there's little or no energy transfer." She tore the sheet off, revealing Sherlock, eyes closed. "You stay still…" She revealed the hole in his lower chest. "...and the bullet pushed through. You're almost certainly going to die, so we need to focus." She slapped his face, and he drew in a breath, eyes opening, head jerking to one side.

The room went back to Magnussen's, and the table disappeared, Molly standing in front of him, now, and she slapped him again.

"I said focus." His head jerked to one side again as her hand hit his cheek, and when he turned back, he was back in the mortuary, the table with Sherlock's body lying on it, between him and Molly. She leaned on it.

"It's all very well and clever having a Mind Palace, but you've only three seconds of consciousness left to use it. So, come on-what's going to kill you?" She asked.

"Blood loss." He answered.

"Exactly. So, it's all about one thing now." The alarm faded out. "Forwards or backwards?"

He shut his eyes, and when they opened, he was back in Magnussen's room, staring at himself.

"We need to decide which way you're going to fall." Molly continued.

"One hole, or two." A familiar voice sade behind him. Anderson.

"Sorry?" Sherlock asked, looking over his shoulder, not caring why Anderson was one of the first people he thought of to help keep himself alive. Molly was a given, but him.

"Is the bullet still inside you?" Molly elaborated. "Or is there an exit wound? It'll depend on the gun." She reminded. Sherlock turned his head, staring now at a display of pistols. He picked out a Cat-0208

"That one, I think." he said, but continued looking, picking out another; a Cat077839, then another.

"Or that one."he frowned, unsure.

"Oh, for God's sake, Sherlock." Mycroft said. Sherlock turned around to his brother, in his office.

"It doesn't matter about the gun. Don't be stupid." He leaned forward. "You always were so stupid. Such a disappointment.

"I'm not stupid." Sherlock said angrily, though he sounded as though he were eleven, not in his early thirties.

"You're a very stupid little boy." Mycroft went on, walking around the desk. "Mummy and Daddy are very cross, because it doesn't matter about the gun."

"Why not?"

"You saw the whole room when you entered it. What was directly behind you when you were murdered?"

"I've not been murdered yet."  
"Balance of probability, little brother."

The alarm began again, and Sherlock turned finding himself back in Magnussen's room. Behind him was a panel of mirrors on the wall. He walked closer to them.

"If the bullet had passed through you, what would you have heard?"

"The mirror shattering." Sherlock answered.

"You didn't. Therefore…"

"The bullet's still inside me." He finished.

"So, we need to take him down backwards." Anderson suggested.

"I agree. Sherlock, you need to fall on your back." Molly told him, standing in front of him again.

"Right now, the bullet is the cork in the bottle." Anderson walked around him, but Sherlock didn't have a lot of energy, nor the time to be annoyed.

"The bullet itself is blocking most of the blood flow." Molly began to walked to his left.

"But any pressure or impact on the entrance wound could dislodge it."

"PLus on your back, gravity's working for us. Fall now." She demanded, and Sherlock toppled backwards.

As he was just about to hit the ground, he landed in the mortuary room again, the alarm blaring, and the tripped back against the wall cabinets, covering his ears.

"What the hell is that? What's happening?" he yelled, lowering his hands. One of the cabinet doors opened, and the tray slide out, Sherlock lying on it, eyes shut.

"You're going into shock." Molly answered. "It's the next thing that's going to kill you."

"What do I do?" He asked her.

Molly was replaced by Mycroft.

"Don't go into shock, obviously. Must be something in this ridiculous memory palace of yours that can calm you down." He said. "Find it. The East Wind is coming, Sherlock. It's coming to get you.

Sherlock left the mortuary, finding himself in front of a door, which opened to reveal Mary, in her wedding dress, aiming a gun at him. She fired, and Sherlock fell back, but he landed in a corridor, instead of on the ground, again.

"Find it." Mycroft's voice echoed.

Sherlock ran down the corridor, pulling a nearby door open, revealing another corridor-just the one he was looking for. A few feet away, a dog panting, and looking towards him.

"Hello, Redbeard." he greeted the dog. "Here, boy. Come on!" he leaned down, patting his legs, and Redbeard jumped up, running towards him. "Come to me. It's okay. It's all right. Come one! It's me! It's me, come on!"

Redbeard barked as he ran towards Sherlock, and Sherlock smiled still patting his legs.

"Good boy. Clever boy!" Sherlock rubbed the dog's head and ears.

"Hello, Redbeard. They're putting me down too, now. It's no fun, is it?" he slumped down, sitting in the hallway. "Redbeard." He whispered, still stroking the Irish Setter, when he heard a laugh further down the hallway. Redbeard jumped from Sherlock's lap, and raced down the hallway, as he heard the laughter again, like music to his ears. He gathered up as much strength as he could to rise up from the ground, and follow his dog down the corridor, turning a corner. Elizabeth and Ophelia sat in the floor, and Redbeard climbed in Elizabeth's lap, licking her face, causing her to chuckle more, as she scratched behind his ears. He moved closer, and sat on the floor beside them, with help from the wall. She turned to him and smiled, turned back to the dog, commanding him to lay down. He obeyed, and she rubbed Redbeard's back. Sherlock, smiling himself, went to lean back against the wall, only to fall further, and landed in an empty hallway, laying on the carpet.

"Without shock, you're going to feel the pain." Molly told him, though he couldn't see her. "There's a hole ripped through you. Massive internal bleeding."

He began to convulse on the floor, screaming out in agony. "You have to control the pain." Molly told him.

He continued to run down a spiral staircase, only to come face to face with a door. He ran through it, still screaming in pain as he did so. It was a padded cell, but the floor was concrete. Sherlock stood against the wall, back pressed to the padding.

"Control! Control! Control." He said, getting quieter, and quieter. He looked across the tiny room to a man, wearing a straightjacket, a large collar around his neck, connected to a chain.

"You." Sherlock straightened, breathing heavily. "You never felt pain, did you? Why did you never feel pain?"

"You always feel it, Sherlock." Moriarty answered, turning his head slowly, dirty. He stood, running towards him, the chain around his neck stopping him. "But you don't have to fear it!" He growled in his face. Sherlock doubled over, crying out, going to his knees, and slumped over on his back.

"Pain. Heartbreak. Loss." Moriarty continued, as Sherlock rolled to one side. "Death. It's all good. It's all good."

Sherlock rolled back over on his back, convulsing.

"It's raining, it's pouring. Sherlock is boring…" Jim sang. "I'm laughing, I'm crying…." He knelt beside Sherlock, who had stopped convulsing.

"...Sherlock is dying."

"Come on, Sherlock." Jim said, lying on his back as well. "Just die, why can't you?" He turned to his side. "One little push, and off you pop. You're gonna love being dead, Sherlock. No-one ever bothers you." he went back up on his knees. "Mrs. Hudson will cry; and Mummy and Daddy will cry…" he gets on his feet, and paces the small cell, turning around and around again. "...and The Woman will cry; and John will cry; Elizabeth will cry buckets and buckets. It's Elizabeth and John I'm worried about. That wife!" Jim let out a breath. "You're letting them down, Sherlock. Elizabeth and John are definitely in danger."

Sherlock's eyes snapped open, and the lights brightened in the cell. Jim turned towards him, as Sherlock attempted to get off of the floor.

"Oh, you're not getting better, are you? Was it something I said? Huh?" he asked. Sherlock grunted, standing up, but stumbling back into the wall. He pushed himself off, and opened the door. "Sherlock!" Moriarty screamed behind him, but he kept going, struggling to go up the staircase, slumping against the banister, repeating Elizabeth's and John's name, using the banister to pull himself up the stairs.

And then he opened his eyes, greeted with a plain white ceiling, and several doctors looming over him, stunned.

* * *

Elizabeth POV

As soon as Sherlock's eyes opened, I rushed from the other side of the room to the chair beside his bed.

"Sherlock?" I asked, quietly, wondering if he was awake, and could hear me. John, who hadn't been paying much attention, turned around from the Television.

"Is he awake?" He asked. I shrugged my shoulders.

"Sherlock?" I asked again, placing my hand over his. He only mumbled. "What?"

"Mary." He whispered. I turned to John, confused, but he shrugged.

"I'll go call her." John nodded, and left, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

Sherlock opened his eyes again, and looked towards me.

"Good morning." I smiled. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly.

"Hello." He grumbled, closing his eyes again.

"I thought you weren't going to get caught." I reminded him.

"Where's Ophelia?" He asked instead of answering.

"She's with Mycroft. He offered to watch her." I told him. He groaned and rolled his eyes as John came back into the room.

"She's on her way." He smiled. "How're you feeling?" John asked him.

"Like hell."

John chuckled, then looked at me. "You've been here for a while, why don't you go get something to eat?" he suggested. I shook my head.

"He just woke up."

John nodded to him, and I heard a snore. "He's pretty drugged up, he'll be in and out a lot."

I thought for a second, when my stomach growled an answer for me.

"Come on, then." John said, opening the door, i placed a quick kiss on SHerlock's forehead, and followed him out.

* * *

"Do you know who shot him?" I asked John as I ate. He shook his head.

"When I went up and found him, it was only him and Magnusson, and Magnusson had been out cold on the floor. Sherlock knows who it was, surely he'll tell us."

"Who knows." I answered. "I'm just happy he's alive."

John grinned. "So am I."

HIs phone rang in his pocket, and he stood to answer it.

"It's Mary, she's just got here. I'm going to go and meet her, if you want to come." John offered.

"No." I shook my head. "I'm going to stay and finish my lunch."

"Alright." He said, turning around to leave.

I finished my lunch, and took my time getting back to Sherlock's room. It was only eleven in the morning, and it would just be a day of sitting in the hospital room with a half-conscious Sherlock, and occasionally a few guests who heard about his injury. Press, maybe.

I finally reached the corridor Sherlock's room was down, and saw someone come out of his room with familiar black hair. She turned around briefly, and smiled at me. I smiled back at Irene, and she left down the stairs without a word.

I felt a hand on my arm, and I spun around kind of expecting, and half-hoping it was Irene, but instead it was Janine. She smiled at me.

"Can I help you?" I asked.

"Just wanted to say hello."

"Hello." I said.

She smiled again, a bit awkwardly. "Hi." She said, and then cleared her throat. "Um, do you mind if I…" She pointed towards Sherlock's room. I shook my head. Obviously she knew, and was upset with him. I shook my head. "Thanks." She said, and walked past me into Sherlock's room, and I noticed the newspapers in her hand. I had seen one of the papers, and her story, obviously fake, made it on the first page. She sold stories of her and Sherlock's 'relationship' to the papers, and was undoubtable making a large amount of money. I hadn't read any of it, but the titles gave the story away.

I waited outside the room until she was finished talking to him. She left the room with a smile my direction, and I went back inside to find Sherlock reaching over to change the amount of morphine he was getting.

"Pleasant conversation?" I asked, sitting beside him. He hummed in response.

"More pleasant than I imagined." He answered, leaning back against the pillows and closing his eyes.

"You're popular today. Lestrade's coming a little later when he's off duty." I told him. Sherlock groaned.

"Of course." He said, sarcastically. "The last thing I want to do is talk to people."

"I know, but people want to see you."

"Why?" He asked.

"To make sure you're feeling alright." I tried. He shook his head.

"I've been shot! Of course I'm not feeling 'alright'." He complained. I sighed.

"Well, they want to visit anyway. No doubt tomorrow you'll have all day to rest."

"I better." He slurred, leaning back, and closing his eyes, falling asleep.

I waited in the hospital room watching the small television mounted on the wall, or playing games on my phone. Sherlock had woken up every so often, obviously incredibly drugged, and talking nonsense. Doctors were in and out as well, checking on him.

Later that evening, I walked outside of the room, and called Mycroft, hoping Ophelia wasn't any trouble, and asking if she was alright. He assured me she was just fine, and offered to watch her another night.

Lestrade, who had told John and I both he planned on coming for a visit, came up the stairs, his phone in hand. I walked to meet them.

"Hey. They won't let you use your phone in there, you know." I told him.

"No, I'm not going to use the phone. He's drugged up, I want to take a video." Lestrade chuckled as we reached the room.

"Oh, Jesus." John said, opening the door. I looked over his shoulder to find Sherlock's bed empty, and the window wide open. John looked at me.

"I stepped out for two minutes." I defended myself. "He was asleep, or so I thought." John sighed.

* * *

"Do you know of any of his bolt holes?" Lestrade called and asked later. I put my head in my hands.

"I have absolutely no idea." I groaned. Where could he have gone?! Surely he couldn't have gotten very far, not with a hole in his abdomen.

"Alright." He said. "When we find him, you'll be the first person we call."

"Thank you." I hung up the phone, and Mrs. Hudson, who had come upstairs to help clean, and make tea, came to stand beside me.

"Oh, dear. Are you alright?" She asked.

"Fine." I answered, my mind still wondering.

"Are you sure?" She pressed on. "You sound like you're ready to cry." She commented. I shook my head. She sunk down beside me on the couch, a hand patting my back. "You've had a rough couple of days. Are you sure?" I only nodded again. She sighed. "Alright. I'm just downstairs if you need me." And she left.

As soon as I heard her door shut, I cover my face with my hands and began to cry. My husband shot, who almost died-_did_ die at the hospital- missing, with no idea where he might be or end up, and we had no idea who shot him. Magnussen wouldn't say, but he _had_ to know. They were facing.

I was confused, and worried, and terrified.

I didn't hear anyone come in, until a hand was on my shoulder, pulling me gently towards them. I leaned against their chest, and I heard John telling me it was alright, and that they'd find him. I knew Lestrade had been asking around, but there were only so many people he could ask; Sherlock's address book wasn't the fullest. Molly, maybe. Mrs. Hudson, who wouldn't no, John doesn't know, Mycroft, who might now.

I heard another pair of footsteps coming up the stairs, and I say up quickly, wiping my eyes as John stares at me, worriedly.

Lestrade came in, obviously not bearing good news from his frown.

"Nothing?" John asked. Lestrade shook his head.

"He knew who shot him." John pointed out. "The bullet wound was here." He stood, pointing at his own chest approximately where Sherlock was shot. "So he was facing whoever it was."

"So why not tell us?" Lestrade wondered.

"Because he's tracking them down himself." I guessed.

"Or protecting them." I added.

"Protecting the shooter? Why?" Lestrade wondered.

"Well, protecting someone, then."

"But why would he care?" John asked. "He' Sherlock. Who would he bother protecting other than his family?"

He plopped down in his chair, which I had just noticed Sherlock put back, and patted the arms, obviously noticing the same thing.

"Call me if you hear anything. Don't hold out on me, you two." Lestrade ordered. I nodded, and he turned to John.

"Call me, okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, right." John answered, distracted.

"Good night, then." Lestrade said, and left the flat. I rose from the couch to take my mug of tea to the sink to wash, having to fold back the wet arms of my sweater to do so.

"John? Need a cuppa?" Mrs. Hudson wondered, walking to the kitchen along side me.

"Mrs. Hudson?" He cleared his throat. "Why does Sherlock think that I'll be moving back in here?" He asked her.

"Oh, yes, he's put your chair back, hasn't he?" She noticed. "That's nice! Looks much better." She commented. I set my mug down quietly, and went back to the living room, sitting down in Sherlock's chair.

"John?" I asked, noticing John had gone very quiet, and was staring at the side table, staring at the bottle of perfume. Claire de la Lune. I didn't know where it come from-I didn't own it-I suspected it was Janine's, but John was gazing at it, seemingly confused.

"What's wrong? Tell me." I asked him. He wouldn't answer. "John?" I asked again. He turned his focus from the bottle to the window behind me as his phone rang. When he made no move to answer it, I stood up and rushed towards it, hoping it was news about Sherlock. My prayers were answered when the caller ID came up, and Sherlock's name was on the screen.

"John, it's Sherlock." I told him, but he didn't move, except for to glance again at the bottle of perfume. "John, it's Sherlock, you have to answer it." I said, again, but he stared on. Finally, worried he would hang up, I answered.

"Sherlock? Where are you? Are you alright?" I fired off.

"Elizabeth, hand the phone to John." He said, sounding out of breath.

"But, are you okay?" I asked.

"Yes, I'm fine. Promise. I need to talk to John."

I pulled the phone from my ear, and handed the phone to John.

"He needs to speak with you." I told him. I waited, and was going to put the phone back to my ear, when John held out a hand. As soon as I placed the phone into his grasp, he rose and went to the landing, taking the call out there instead of in the living room.

I sat back down in Sherlock's chair and waited for him to come back and tell me what was going on. I felt a wave of relief, though, finding out that Sherlock was alive. He didn't sound well, but he was alive.

John came back in a minute later, and grabbed his coat. I stood to follow him out, but he held up a hand to stop me.

"No, stay here." He said.

"What? Why?" I wondered. John shook his head, putting his coat on.

"Because I have no idea what's going on." He answered, and turned around, leaving.

I heard the door open, and I shot up from the couch to a sitting position.

"John." I heard Mrs. Hudson say from the kitchen, followed by her calling out Mary's name, and they both entered the flat, John furious, while Mary only looked at her feet.

"Hi Mary." I greeted her with a smile. SHe didn't even make eye contact, and I saw John shake his head.

Sherlock hobbled in the doorway, and I stood up, surprised.

"Oh, Sherlock. You look awful." I said, wanting to move towards him, but i was frozen in place, confused., Sherlock turned to Mrs. Hudson.

"Get me some morphine from your kitchen. I've run out." He told her.

"I don't have any morphine!" She said.

"Then what exactly is the point of you?" He asked, angrily, causing Mrs. Hudson and I both to jump.

"What is going on?" I wondered.

"Bloody good questions." John said.

"The Watson's are about to have a domestic, and fairly quickly, I hope, because we've got work to do." Sherlock answered.

"Oh, I have a better question." John said. He walked to Mary. "Is everyone I've ever met a psychopath?" He asked.

"Yes." Sherlock answered. "Good we've got that settled. Anyway, we..."

"Shut up." John yelled at him, furiously. "and stay shut up, because this is not funny. Not this time."

"I didn't say it was funny." Sherlock responded.

John turned back around to Mary. "You." He said. "What have I ever done? Hmm? My whole life...to deserve you? he said, pausing, and he sounded out of breath, no doubt due to his attempt at controlling his anger.

"Everything." Sherlock answered for her. He was now leaning against the door post, sweating and breathing heavily.

"Sherlock, I've told you to shut up." John said walking towards him.

"Oh, I mean it, seriously. Everything-everything you've ever done is what you did."

"Sherlock, one more word and you will not need morphine." He threatened.

"You were a doctor who went to war." Sherlock continued, quietly. "You're a man who couldn't stay in the suburbs for more than a month without storming into a crack den and beating up a junkie. You're best friend is a sociopath who solves crimes as an alternative to getting high." He paused, holding up a hand. "That's me, by the way. Hello." He waved, then nodded to me. "Within a week of being here, you little sister was solving crimes with us, enjoyed it, and then married that friend, and had a daughter with him. Even the landlady used to run a drug cartel."

"It was my husband's cartel. I was just typing." She corrected.

"And exotic dancing." He added.

"Sherlock Holmes, if you've been YouTubing..."

"John, you are addicted to a certain lifestyle. You're abnormally attracted to dangerous situations and people, so is it truly such a surprise that the woman you've fallen in love with conforms to that pattern?"

"How does...How does Mary conform to that pattern?" I wondered. No one answered.

"But she wasn't supposed to be like that. Why is she like that?" John asked.

"Because you chose her." Sherlock answered.

John turned away from him. "Why is everything..." he walked towards the dinning table "...always...MY FAULT?!" He shouted, kicking one of the chairs to the floor in anger. I jumped, and Mrs. Hudson stormed out, worried about the neighbors.

"John, listen. Be calm, and answer me." Sherlock asked. "What is she?"

"My lying wife?"

"No, what is she?" Sherlock asked again.

"And the woman who's carrying my child who has lied to me since the day I met her?"

"No. not in this flat; not in this room. Right here, right now, what is she?"

"Okay." John said, turning towards Sherlock, then back to Mary. He turned his head towards Sherlock. "Your way. Always your way." John cleared his throat, picking up one of the dining chairs, and putting it in front of their chairs.

"Sit." John told Mary, pointing out the chair.

"Why?" She asked, the first word she had spoken since she got here.

"Because that's where they sit... the people who come in here with their stories. The clients-that's all you are now, Mary. You're a client. This is where you sit, and talk," He gestured towards his and Sherlock's chair, and to a small dinning chair I used; the one John kicked over. "and this is where we sit and listen, and decide if we want you or not."John sat in his chair, and Sherlock nodded in that direction, allowing me to go in front of him.

I pulled the small dinning chair up beside Sherlock's, next to Mary's, and Sherlock slowly made his way to his chair, sitting before Mary did so herself.

Mary stayed silent, only pulling a pen drive from her pocket, putting it on the table by John's chair. I looked closer, and saw A.G.R.A written on the side of it.

"A.G.R.A. What's that?" Sherlock asked.

"Er...my initials." Mary answered.

"I thought your initials were M.E.M, or M.E.W. now." I said. She sighed.

"Mary Morstan was stillborn. She acquired her name, birthday-her identity." Sherlock explained. I stared at my friend in shock, and confusion.

"Everything about who I was is in there." Mary nodded towards the pen drive. "If you love me, " She said to John. "don't read it in front of me."

"Why?" John asked.

"Because you won't love me when you're finished. "And I don't want to see that happen." John took the drive off of the table, and put it in his pocket.

"How much do you know already?" Mary asked Sherlock.

"By your skill set, you are- or were- an intelligence agent. Your accent is currently English, but I suspect you are not. You're on the run from something; you've used your skills to disappear; Magnussen knows your true identity, which is why you were going to kill him; and I assume you befriended Janine, just to get close to him."

"Oh- you can talk." Mary said.

"Oh, look at you two." John said, and we turned to him. He pointed to Sherlock and Mary. "You should have got married."

"The stuff Magnussen has on me, I would go to prison for the rest of my life."

"So you were just gonna kill him?" John asked.

"People like Magnussen should be killed, that's why there are people like me."

"You're an assassin?" I asked, becoming angry with her myself. She looked me in the eyes, then looked away again, quickly.

"Perfect." John said. "How could I not see that?"

"You didsee that." Mary answered. "And you married me. Because he's right. It's what you like."

"So...Mary..." I turned to Sherlock and he grimaced, shifting in his chair, obviously in pain, but trying to ignore it. "Any document's that Magnussen has concerning yourself, you want..." He grimaced again, and his voice changed. ",,,extracted and returned."

"Why would you help me?" Mary asked.

"Yes, why are we helping her?" I wondered, turning to Sherlock. Throughout the conversation, my blood began to boil. Mary, my best friend, my sister-in-law, wasn't even named Mary, and had lied to my brother, to me, to Sherlock-everyone, and was an assassin. And here Sherlock is, willing to help the woman who has lied to us all.

"Because...she saved my life."

"What?" I asked. Sherlock looked past me, to Mary.

"When I happened on you and Magnussen..." I watched worriedly, as he braced his arms on the arms of the chair, and took a few strained breaths.

"Sherlock?" I whispered.

"I'm fine." He whispered back. "...you had a problem." He continued. "More specifically, you had a witness. "The solution of course was simple. Kill us both, and leave. However sentiment got the better of you. One precisely-calculated shot to incapacitate me in the hope that it would bide you more time to negotiate my silence. Of course you couldn't shoot Magnussen. On the night that both of us broke into the building, your own husband would become a suspect, so...you calculated...that Magnussen,,,would use the fact of your involvement rather than sharing the information with the police...as is his M. then you left the way you came. Have I missed anything?"

"How did she save your life?" I asked him.

"She phoned the ambulance." He answered.

"No, I phoned the ambulance." John corrected.

"She phoned first. You didn't find me for another five minutes. Left to you, I would have died. The average arrival time for a London ambulance is..." He looked at his watch, and I heard someone downstairs, coming up.

"Did someone call an ambulance?" a paramedic asked John and I stood up, as another paramedic entered the room.

"...eight minutes." Sherlock finished. "Did you bring any morphine? I asked on the phone."

"We were told there was a shooting." The paramedic answered, puzzled.

"There was. Last week." He was holding his wrist. "...but I believe I'm bleeding internally, and my pulse is very erratic." He pushed himself up by the chair arms. "You may need to restart my heart" his knees buckled, and he fell. John and I rushed to him, taking his arms to help support him. "...on the way." He finished. The paramedic ran towards us, and Sherlock groaned, grabbing onto our shoulders.

"Listen to me." he said as the paramedics took him, and supported his weight, but he ignored them. "John, Elizabeth-Magnussen is all that matters now. You can trust Mary. She saved my life"

"She shot you." John said, quietly.

"Er, mixed messaged, I grant you." He grimaced, crying out in pain, and began to fall again. John and the paramedics began to lower him to the floor.

"Sherlock? Sherlock." John turned to the paramedics.

"All right, take him." Sherlock cried out again, and I went to follow them, but John wrapped his arm around mine, pulling me into a hug, and I cried for the second time.

* * *

_The chapter was barrels of fun! Not going to lie!_

_Reviews:_

_GrantWards'sHispterGlasses:_

_I'm so glad you love this story, and shocked that you read all 50 chapters in ONE DAY! You must read incredibly fast. Sadly, I don't share the same gift._

_Season 2 was probably my favorite season out of them all, I don't know why. It was my favorite to watch, and wright, because there was so much going on. I am so glad you love Elizabeth too. I was really worried, starting out, what people would think of her. I have read fanfictions where the main character was as smart as Sherlock, and it was just weird, and I hated reading it. The story was good, but the character didn't seem...real enough for me. But, intelligent was what I was going for with Elizabeth, so I'm glad you think the balance was perfect! _

_Good luck with Reichenbach Fall, by the way! Reading it, and then watching it are two completely different things, trust me. Unfortunately, my grandmother, who introduced me to the series, started me on season 3, since it was the only season she had on DVD, so I knew what happened, and didn't get the watch Reichenbach Fall beforehand, not knowing he was going to live. So that sucked. But the episode, when I went back and watched it, was still like a punch to the gut. I can only imagine NOT knowing…._

_Anyway, I hope you are well, and thank you for the long review-I love them! Please, don't worry! Everything kind of works out in the end...a little :)_

_Red: I'm glad it's to your liking! I'm so sorry about the punctuation errors, and I tried this time to catch them a bit better than I have in the past! Sometimes my fingers like to try to keep up with my brain, and go too fast, or get confused and go in odd directions, accidently hitting different keys. Now imagine what it's like without autocorrect…*shudders* it's hell...utter hell._

_Just some news, for everyone…_

_My original book is coming together, and is somewhat inspired by Lily and the Lion, the lovely fairytale that the wedding chapters were based off of, though it will be a bit different, but now that it's coming together, and I'm not spending hours slaving over it like I have been, trying to get everything to work, I'm going to have more time on my hands = more time to write Another Watson!_

_Also, I don't know if you all would be interested, it's going to happen anyway, but I would like some feedback about what you guys think-it has come to my attention that all over social media there are OTP questions, and people have been answering them using their OTPs, and someone gave me the idea to answer them with Elizalock….so I've been searching and found some really neat ones, but I was wondering if you would be interested in answering them yourself, or seeing what I think at the end of a chapter. I thought about doing one or two a chapter, since there aren't many left, but I don't know. I wanted to see what you guys think._

_**| IMPORTANT-**__More one shots to come as well, since this book will be a bit dormant until season 4, but I want to keep writing Elizalock, because why not? So I will be working on oneshots for a while, and have a book out just for them, so check that out if you're interested, and you can follow me on tumblr (heil-loki) for news about upcoming chapters and one shots, and news and things :)_

_~Eruaphadriel _


	52. Chapter 52

We sat in the waiting room, John, Mary, and I. John was in and out, obviously still furious, while I still couldn't believe what I had heard. Mary stayed in a corner, her eyes on her feet.

At one point, while John was gone, she did stand, and sat beside me. I didn't look at her. I didn't know what to think of her. She shot my husband, could have killed him, yet she could have shot him in the head, or the heart, where he would have no chance of survival. Yet, she lied to us for years.

"Elizabeth, I'm sorry." She said. "I know sorry won't cut it, but-"

"You're right. Sorry won't make up for the years of lying to me, to my brother." I shook my head, picking nail polish from my thumb nail.

"I feel awful."

"You should. At least I know you're not heartless as well." I cut back at her.

"Elizabeth, please, listen to me."

I sighed, and turned towards her.

"I didn't want to do what I did to Sherlock, but like he said, I didn't have a choice." She pleaded. "I was an assassin, I won't deny it. No more lies." She promised, and I nodded, still glaring at her. "I did...awful things, but I did those awful things to awful people, people who deserved it. But I wasn't rouge, I was under orders."

"The other night. Were you under orders then?"

"The other night, I did what my best for me, and for my child."

"By going to murder a man."

"Magnussen has dirt on me, I could go to prison. Now, maybe I should, but don't have myself to think about anymore. If it were you; if you were in my situation, with Sherlock and Ophelia. Nobody can know what I've done, and he's the only one that has that information-my whole file."

"Why not just steal it back, then?" I asked. "If you're so worried about it."

"The information he has isn't physical. He remembers it all. It's all up here." She pointed to her temple. "That's where he stores his sensitive documents. Killing him was the only way."

I nodded, looking back down at my chipping nail polish.

"I'm not the only one, either. He has other people-whole countries, under his thumb." She informed me. "I wasn't just thinking of myself. Not entirely."

And then she stopped, waiting for my reaction. I thought for a long time, unable to form a civil response.

Finally, after a few minutes, I spoke up. "Mary, I ...understand to some degree why you did what you did, and I am grateful that you didn't kill my husband, although it would have made sense for you to, but I am still extremely angry." I told her. I saw the corners of her mouth twitch slightly.

"Your understanding is all I ask." She said.

"Well, you have it. So, there." I said, turning back around, and picking up a magazine, flipping through it, and Mary sat back, and sighed.

* * *

I groaned, and stretched as Ophelia squealed in delight from her crib, waking me up from my slumber. As if she knew it was Christmas morning.

"Well, at least she's not jumping up and down on our bed." Sherlock commented, looking to Ophelia's crib as she kicked her legs each and every way.

Sherlock and I had bought her a few things for Christmas-some new toys, and clothes, and actually wrapped them, thinking she would have fun tearing the wrapping paper off, and she did. She laughed when Sherlock would tear a bit off for her to grab, and laugh harder when she yanked on it, and the whole thing came undone.

I heard the doorbell, and looked at Sherlock. "Will you go and answer it, please." I begged, as Ophelia crumbled more paper in my lap. He nodded and went downstairs to answer.

I heard him come up the stairs later, with someone behind him. I didn't recognize them at first, until he raised his arm, and spoke. "Hello, Mrs. Holmes. I'm glad to see you two back together."

"Bill Wiggins?" I asked. He nodded with a smile. "Happy Christmas. What are you doing here?" I wondered.

"Mr. Holmes invited me." He nodded at Sherlock, who was sitting in John's old chair with a smile.

"Oh."

"He'll be coming to Christmas dinner at my parent's with us as well." Sherlock added.

"Really." I looked back at Billy, and noticed the clothes he was wearing, dirty and full of holes. I knew John surely left something of his here, or Sherlock was just going to have to sacrifice something of his.

"Do you need something nice to wear?" I asked, hoping I wasn't offending him.

"Yes, ma'am, if it's not too much trouble."

I grinned, picking Ophelia up and handing her to Sherlock. "Not at all."

I went up to John's old room in search of his old clothes. Nothing in the closet, but luckily there were some things in the drawers that John left, so I took them down, hoping they would fit.

When I went downstairs, Billy was holding Ophelia, and Sherlock was nowhere in sight.

"He went to get changed." Billy told me, letting Ophelia bounce on his legs, and he grinned as she laughed.

I put the clothes of the table next to him, for whenever he wanted them.

"Are you hungry?" I asked, noticing some breakfast was left over, still warm. I made him a plate, not worrying about what his answer was, and gave it to him.

"You didn't have to ma'am."

"Happy Christmas." I replied. "I can take her, if you want to eat." I offered, but he shook his head.

"Nah, she's alright." He smiled at her, and picked up his fork, putting her in his lap as he ate, and I went to get ready.

John and Mary were also invited to Sherlock's parent's house, which I was unaware of until we got there, and John opened the front door for us, and I caught sight of Mary behind him.

'''''''

The choir over the radio sung Christmas carols as Mrs. Holmes rushed around the kitchen, Sherlock, Mycroft, and I sitting at the table. Sherlock was reading the paper, while Mycroft had his head in his hand, seemingly miserable.

"Oh, dear God, it's only two o'clock." he whined. "It's been Christmas day for at least a week, now."

Ophelia squirmed in my lap at the sudden sound of her uncle's voice.

"How can it only be two o'clock. I'm in agony."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic Mycroft." I said, turning back to my daughter, who was chewing on her fingers. "Ophelia." I said, trying to get her attention. Finally when her eyes were on me, I grinned. "Say it again. 'Mama', come on."

"Oh, is she talking?" Mrs. Holmes asked.

"Not yet, but she's trying." I said. "Mama." I tried again.

"Mananana." she said, chewing on her fingers more. I pulled them out of her mouth, but they went right back in. I sighed.

"Let me see her." Sherlock said, holding out his arms. I handed her over.

"Why are we doing this? We never do this." Mycroft said. Mrs. Holmes leaned on the table.

"We are here because Sherlock is home from hospital, and we are all very happy."

"Am I happy too? I haven't checked." Mycroft answered.

"Behave, Myc." She said, picking up a basket.

"Mycroft is the name you gave me, if you could possibly struggle all the way to the end."

I looked at Sherlock, my eyes wide, and he shook his head, rolling his eyes at his big brother.

"Not absolutely sure why you're here." Mrs. Holmes said to Bill Wiggins.

"I invited him." Sherlock answered.

"I'm his protégé, Mrs. Holmes. When he dies, I get all his stuff, and his job."

My head snapped to look at Bill, and then to Sherlock.

"No." Sherlock answered.

"Oh, well, I help out a bit." He tried again.

"Closer." Sherlock answered.

"If he does get murdered or something…"

"Probably stop talking now."

"Please." I added

"Lovely when you bring your friends round!" Mycroft commented.

"Stop it." Mrs. Holmes said. "Someone had put a bullet in my boy, and if I ever find out who, I shall turn absolutely monstrous." She said, picking up a basket of crackers. "Ah. This was for Mary." She picked up a mug, and took it with her. "I'll be back in a minute." And she left.

Mycroft got up, putting his coat on, and looking at Sherlock.

"Coming?" He wondered. Sherlock handed Ophelia to me, and got up himself.

"Why not." He grinned, following his brother outside, as his father came into the kitchen. He picked up some plates and other dishes from dinner, while Billy handed me some punch, but I shook my head.

"No, thank you." I said.

"Are you sure?" He asked, and I nodded, reaching for a toy Ophelia dropped that she was gnawing on.

Mrs. Holmes walked in, smiling, and glanced out of the window. I saw her smile fall immediately.

"Everything alright?" I asked her, and she stomped towards the door. She didn't answer me, only opened the door and shouted out.

"Are you two smoking?" She asked, surprised. I heard Sherlock and Mycroft answer, Mycroft denying it, and Sherlock blaming it on his brother. I grinned as Mrs. Holmes shut the door, shaking her head. She sat in the chair Sherlock was in, and leaned back, closing her eyes, finally relaxing for the day.

"Those two, " She muttered, and shook her head again, with a chuckle.

I picked Ophelia's diaper bag up from the ground beside my chair, and went to take to her the bathroom to change her. Mr. Holmes stopped picking from the leftover food.

"I can do that if you would rather stay in here and relax." He offered, but I shook my head.

"No, thank you. It will only take a minute."

He smiled, and nodded, going back to the abandoned crackers and cheese Mrs. Holmes left out.

When I left the bathroom with Ophelia, John met me in the hallway.

"What's going on?" He demanded. I shook my head.

"What do you mean?" I wondered. I hadn't noticed anything unusual about today. "Is Mary alright?"

"I don't know. One minute, she was fine,"

"Did you two make up?" I added.

"That's not important, right now, Liz. She was fine, then she wasn't answering, and went completely limp."

I shook my head in confusion. "Maybe she just fainted. It's a happy day, if you two made up. Did you?" I asked again.

"Yes." He answered, and I grinned. I wasn't as upset with Mary as I had been in the beginning. She was a good friend to me, despite the lie, and I understood, partially, why she lied in the first place. She wanted a fresh start, and telling someone something like that wouldn't be the first step in beginning a new life. That didn't mean that I wasn't incredibly pissed at her still.

"Don't drink Mary's tea." I heard someone behind me, and I spun around finding Sherlock walking towards the kitchen. "Or the punch." He called. John and I walked behind him, towards the other sitting room. Mr. Holmes was asleep, lying back on the couch, and Sherlock threw a hand under his nose, as if he was checking his breathing, before making his way to the kitchen, checking the breathing of his mother, who had fallen asleep in the chair, and then of Mycroft, who was slumped over on the dining table, asleep as well.

"Sherlock, did you just drug my pregnant wife?" John asked.

"Don't worry. Wiggins is an excellent chemist." Sherlock assured him, gesturing to Billy, who was standing nearby.

"I calculated you wife's dose myself." He boasted. "Won't affect the little one. I'll keep an eye on her."

"He'll monitor her recovery, and watch Ophelia. It's more or less his day job." he said, slipping his scarf around his neck.

"Why?"

"Well, we can't take her with us, can we?" Sherlock asked. I sighed, and passed Ophelia, and the baby bag to Billy, reluctantly.

"Are you sure? I can stay." I said to him, but Billy shook his head, and so did Sherlock. I didn't argue with them. "What have you done? What are you going to do, is probably the better question."

"A deal with the devil." Sherlock answered.

"Oh, Jesus." John muttered, as Sherlock grabbed the grey laptop, sliding out from under his brother's limp hand.

"Please tell me you haven't just gone out of your mind." John begged.

"Rather keep you guessing." Sherlock answered, and I heard a helicopter approaching. "Ah, there's our lift." Sherlock announced, as John and I went to look out of the window, as Sherlock left the house.

John and I joined him outside as the helicopter landed in a field in front of his parent's cottage.

"Coming?" Sherlock asked as John and I reached him.

"Where?" John asked.

"Do you want your wife to be safe?" Sherlock asked my brother.

"Yeah, of course I do."

"Good, because this is going to be incredibly dangerous. One false move, and we'll have betrayed the security of the United Kingdom and be in prison for high treason. Magnussen is quite simply the most dangerous man we've ever encountered, and the odds are comprehensively stacked against us." Sherlock informed us.

"Seriously?" I asked.

"But it's Christmas." John whined.

"I feel the same." Sherlock smiled, then turned to see our expressions. His smile fell. "Oh, you mean it's actually Christmas." he turned to John. "Did you bring your gun?"

"Why would I bring my gun to your parent's house for Christmas dinner?"

"Is it in your coat?" Sherlock said, holding John's coat out for him. John snatched it.

"Yes."

"Off we go, then." Sherlock said, but I shook my head. "Come [edit spelling mistake 'on']one, Elizabeth, you missed out the last time."

"Look what happened the last time." I pointed out.

"That won't happen this time."

"No, it won't. You'll just be sent to prison for treason."

"Maybe it is a good idea for her to stay." John said. "She could help Wiggins monitor everyone's recovery."

I nodded, as Sherlock sighed. "Sure you want to stay?" He asked.

"Are you sure you want to go?" I asked him. He smiled, nodding.

"Absolutely. Finally get to see Appledore, where Magnussen keeps all of his information on everyone. It'll be fantastic." His grin widened.

I nodded. There was no stopping him. "Alright. Please be more careful this time." I asked.

"Promise."

"If you two are going to kiss, will you give me a head's up, so I can go ahead and run to the helicopter?" John asked. I chuckled.

They turned, and I watched them go, wishing they didn't have to, and we could have a normal Christmas, for once.

I replayed the conversation in my head, and smiled at the excitement in Sherlock's voice when he mentioned visiting Appledore, to see the library of information Magnussen had tucked away.

_Appledore._

My smile fell, and I felt sick to my stomach, recalling the conversation Mary and I had at the hospital.

I yelled for them, but they didn't hear me, already more than halfway to the helicopter.

So I ran.

_So, 'Another Watson' now has a beta reader, the lovely Nott01, who helped a great deal with this chapter, and did an amazing job! I know I've said it before, but thank you so much!_

_Reviews:_

_GrantWard'sHipsterGlasses: I'm so happy you loved tha chapter, and thank you for reviewing. I feel like it's only fair to respond to all of my reviews, since you guys take the time to write them, and tell me what you thought, and I really do care what you guys think. I think it helps me write the chapters, and lets me write in more things that you guys like._

_The Hounds of Baskerville is one that I watch repeatedly, and I love it every single time. My mom gets mad that I watch the same episodes over and over again, but there really isn't much to watch :/. But that episode is one of my favorites as well! Have you finished Reichenbach Fall yet? That's another one of my favorites as well. The beginning of the episode was...yeah, I try to avoid watching it sometimes…._

_Thank you for checking out my tumblr. I can't guarantee a lot of quality posts, but I can guarantee some updates about updates! And you'll find a LOT of Sherlock related stuff on tumblr! Most of the blogs I follow are Sherlock related!_

_Red (Guest): Oh, the OTP questions! I will answer some at the end of this chapter, and the next.I have a full list of them, and I'm using them to write one shots as well, but I will answer them here! I WILL be doing 'The Abominable Bride'! I am SO excited for it! My favorite show, one of my favorite eras...a dream come true! Thank you for reviewing!_

_LadyRedStar (Guest): I tried Elizabeth and Mary fighting, and it just turned into a argument…? I didn't know what to do there, really. Sorry if that's not what you were hoping for. More drama to come, I assure you! Thanks for the review, dear!_

_i-am-sherlock-for-life-221B: All 51? Hopefully not in one sitting! I would never be able to do that, I get too restless. Anyway, thank you so much, I'm happy you like it! I love your name, too, by the way._

_Red said they were interested in the questions, so I thought I might add some, of course giving credit to the person I got them from. I think these are super fun, I don't know why. Some of these were really hard, though!_

_Also, you guys are more than welcome to answer in a review. Would be interested in seeing what you think._

Who stays up late at night to read, and who sleeps with their head on their lap? (via timelord-on-board (tumblr))

_I think Sherlock would stay up late to read, since he rarely sleeps, while Elizabeth sleeps. I can see it going the other way, though._

~Who hogs the blankets? (via little-otp-things (tumblr))

_This is another I think can go either way, but I think Sherlock would._

~Who rocks the Ferris wheel seat? Which one is terrified and crying and clinging to the other to try to get them to stop?

_I think Sherlock would definitely try to rock it, while Elizabeth tried to get him to stop, all the while Sherlock is trying to tell her that the probability of her dying is very low._

~Who talks in their sleep about the other, and who listens with a dumb grin on their face? (important-otp-questions (tumblr))

_I think Elizabeth talks in her sleep, while Sherlock listens. This questions is really cute, just saying :) ._

~Who has placed mistletoe in every room of the house to get in as many kisses as possible, and who is exasperatedly questioning "this is the 5th timE TODAY WHERE IS ALL THIS MISTLETOE COMING FROM?' before sighing and leaning in? (important otp questions (i think))

_This is really hard...I need help, but I think...maaaybe Sherlock would hang the mistletoe...but I could see Elizabeth doing the same thing… So I have no idea. This one stumped me. _

~Who sleeps in the strangest positions? Who wakes in the middle of the night to see their partner in a different position every time? ('')

_Elizabeth sleeps in the od positions, I think._

~Who has a collection of Pepe the Frog reaction pictures? Who's dead inside because of it? ('')

_Elizabeth has the collection._

_This one makes me laugh everytime. I love it._

_That's all, I think. Till next time!_

_~Eruaphadriel X_


	53. Chapter 53

"Sherlock!" I said loudly over the helicopter. I felt someone grab my arm, and push me up. I turned around to the man helping me into the helicopter, shaking my head, trying to explain, but they didn't hear me. I was hoisted into the aircraft, and Sherlock and John stared at me, Sherlock smiling, while John was confused.

"Change your mind?" John wondered. I shook my head.

"No, no, I didn't. I had to tell you-"

"Buckle in." The man yelled, cutting me off, and buckling me in. The helicopter took off before I could explain that I really wasn't going.

"You had to tell us what?" John asked. I looked at the pilot and his co pilot, seeing the initials CAM on their headsets-Charles Augustus Magnussen. I couldn't tell them here.

I shook my head instead. John only nodded.

The helicopter ride, which was in reality not very long, felt like ages. We landed in front of Appledore, and a man met us as we climbed out of the helicopter.

"Sherlock Holmes?" He asked. Sherlock walked forward.

"Yes?" he asked. The man began to walk towards the enormous house.

"Follow me, please." He asked, and we walked behind him to the house. I felt someone pull me back.

"What did you want to tell us?" John asked quietly, so the man in front of us couldn't hear.

"Magnussen's files aren't in a library." I whispered. "He has his own Mind Palace. He remembers it all. He doesn't have any physical copies of anything."

"How do you know this?" John asked.

"At the hospital, after they took Sherlock back, Mary told me in the waiting room. I asked why she couldn't just steal the files back."

John opened his mouth to speak, but closed it as the man held the elevator door open for us.

"Thank you." I nodded to him, walking inside.

The doors opened, and we walked in, finding Magnussen sitting on a sofa, a drink in his hand.

"I would offer you a drink, but it's very rare and expensive." He greeted us.

Sherlock walked farther into the room, and sat down a few feet away from Magnussen. He put the laptop between them.

"Oh, it was you." Sherlock said, looking across the room. I followed his gaze, and saw footage of a fire, and Sherlock pulling my brother out from underneath it.

"Yes, of course." He answered.

I felt my blood begin to boil, and I glanced at John.

"Very hard to find a pressure point on you, Mr. Holmes." Sherlock hummed. "The drugs thing I never believed for a moment. The only other options were John, and his sister Elizabeth, and, believe it or not, I wouldn't dare put a pregnant woman in danger." he turned to me. "How is little Ophelia, hmm?" I didn't answer, and he turned back to the projection. "But look at how you care for John Watson." he commented as the footage replayed itself. "Your damsel in distress."

"You...put me in a fire...for leverage?" John asked, furious.

"Oh, I'd never let you burn, Doctor Watson. I had people standing by." He sat up, putting the glass on a table. "I'm not a murderer...unlike your wife."

He turned the footage off, and walked towards the wall. "Let me explain how leverage works, Doctor Watson. For those who understand these things, Mycroft Holmes is the most powerful man in the country. Well...apart from me." He added. "Mycroft's pressure point is his junkie detective brother, Sherlock." He walked back to the sofa. "And Sherlock's pressure point is his best friend, John Watson. John Watson's pressure point is his wife. I own John Watson's wife…." He looked around to Sherlock. "...I own Mycroft." he sat down again. "He's what I'm getting for Christmas." He held his hand out towards Sherlock, and Sherlock pushed the laptop towards him.

"It's an exchange, not a gift." Sherlock clarified. He rose from the sofa, as Magnussen raised a brow at him, picking the laptop up, as Sherlock spun around to face him.

"Forgive me, but," Magnussen held the laptop to his chest. "...I already seem to have it."

"It's password protected."

Magnussen ran his fingers over the back of the computer. I almost asked if they wanted to be alone.

"In return for the password, you will give me any material in your possession pertaining to the woman I know as Mary Watson." Sherlock demanded.

"Oh, she's bad, that one. So many dead people. You should see what I've seen."

"I don't need to see it." John replied.

"You might enjoy it, though." Magnussen told him. "I enjoy it."

"Then why don't you show us." Sherlock spoke up.

"Show you Appledore? The secret vaults, is that what you want?" he asked, putting the laptop on the sofa.

"I want everything you've got on Mary." He repeated, intensely.

Magnussen only let out a breath of laughter, scratching his head. When he stopped chuckling, he patted the laptop.

"You know, I honestly expected something good."

"Oh, I think you'll find the contents of that laptop…"

"...include a GPS locator. "Magnussen interrupted him. "By now, your brother will have noticed the theft, and security services will be converging on the house. Having arrived, they'll find the top secret information in my hands, and have every justification to search my vaults. They will discover further information of this kind, and I'll be imprisoned. You will be exonerated, and restored to your smelly little apartment to solve crimes with Mr. and Mrs. Psychopath."

I glanced at John, who was gritting his teeth. I was doing the same.

"Mycroft has been looking for this opportunity for a long time. He'll be a very, very proud big brother." He emptied the glass in his hand, which he had picked up from the table while he was speaking.

"The fact that you know it will happen isn't going to stop it." Sherlock said.

"Then why am I smiling?" He put the glass on the table.

"Ask me." He smiled. No one spoke up, and he glanced between John and I. "Johnny hasn't caught on, but you have, Mrs. Holmes. How long have you known?" he wondered.

"Known what?" Sherlock asked, looking between Magnussen and me.

"That you, Sherlock Holmes, have made one enormous mistake which will destroy the lives of everyone he loves...and everything he holds dear."

He glanced back to me, and saw my surprise. He couldn't have known that I knew, unless…

"I heard you 'whispering' to your brother, and your face was a dead give away. I don't suppose you're a very good liar, then." He grinned.

"Elizabeth, what do you know?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but Magnussen beat me.

"You'll see soon enough. Now, come on. Let me show you the vaults."

He began to walk through a study, and we followed him through it, walking across to two wooden doors. He spun around to us.

"The entrance to my vaults. This is where I keep you all." he opened the door, but there was nothing inside. It was a plain white room with a black chair in the middle.

"Okay-so where are the vaults then?" John asked.

"As your sister told you," he gestured around the room. "They're all in here." he pointed to his temple "There are no vaults beneath this building. The Appledore vaults are my Mind Palace. That's what Mrs. Holmes knew." he smiled at Sherlock. I glanced over to find him staring at the room, his eyes wide, finally releasing the truth.

"You know about Mind Palaces, don't you Sherlock?" Magnussen asked, but Sherlock didn't reply. "How to store information so you never forget it-by picturing it. I just sit here, I close my eyes," he said, doing so."and down I go into my vaults. I can go anywhere inside my vaults. My memories, I'll look at the files on Mrs. Watson." He announced, raising both hands in front of him, and moved his fingers, as if he was flicking through pages, or folders. John cleared his throat beside me, and I turned to him, finding him trying to hide a smile. He caught me staring, and shook his head. "Sorry." He mouthed. I shook my head as well, looking back at Magnussen and despite the situation, let a smile creep onto my face as well as Magnussen hummed to himself, and picked a 'folder' from the 'drawer'.

"This is one of my favorites." he announced. "Oh, it's exciting." his hands moved as if he were opening the folder, and turning the pages inside. He chuckled quietly. "All those wet jobs for the CIA. Ooh! She's gone a bit freelance now. Bad girl." He chuckled more, and turned another page. "Ah, she is so wicked. I can really see why you like her."

He put the 'file' back in the 'drawer' and moved his hands like he closed it. He opened his eyes.

"You see?"

"So there are no documents. You don't actually have anything here." John asked.

"Oh, sometimes I send out for something, if I really need it. But mostly I just remember it all.

"I don't understand." John shook his head.

"You should have that on a T-shirt." Magnussen replied.

"You just remember it all?" He asked.

"It's all about knowledge." he looked at Sherlock. "Everything is. Knowing is owning."

"But if you just know it, then you don't have any proof." John argued.

"Proof? I don't need proof. I'm in business, you moron." I bit the inside of my cheek. Only I can call John a moron. "I don't have to prove it-I just have to print it. Speaking of news, you'll all be heavily featured tomorrow. Trying to sell state secrets to me." Magnussen buttoned his jacket. "Let's go outside. They'll be here shortly."

He walked out of the room, leaving the three of us standing there, staring at the tiny room.

"Sherlock, do we have a plan?" John asked, quietly, but Sherlock didn't answer, looking towards the floor of the white room.

"Sherlock?" I asked. He still didn't move. John left, giving up, but I stayed.

"Are you alright?" I asked, putting a hand on his shoulder. He jumped, slightly, then closed his eyes, screwing them closed. He nodded, slightly, but I knew he was lying.

"Go ahead. I'll be fine. I'll be right behind." He told me. I nodded, and left like he asked me to.

"They're taking their sweet time." Magnussen said as I walked out onto the patio, the sky darkening.

"I still don't understand." John said.

"And there's the back of the T-shirt." Magnussen mumbled.

"You just know things. How does that work?"

Magnussen turned to him, but looked over my shoulder at Sherlock, who joined us on the patio, and stood beside me, inches away.

He looked back at John.

"I just love your little soldier face." He stated. "I'd like to punch it. Bring it over here a minute."

John looked at me, but I stared at Magnussen, surprised, and angry.

"Come on." Magnussen prompted. "For Mary, bring me your face."

John glanced at Sherlock, then walked closer to Magnussen, standing in front of him.

"Lean forward a bit and stick your face out." He demanded, and John did as he was told, leaning forward slightly, as Magnussen leaned down, face to face with my brother.

"Now, can I flick it?" he asked, though it really wasn't much of a question. He was, more than likely, going to do it anyway. The fact that he wanted to do it at all made me slightly sick and confused. John snorted, looking towards his feet and shaking his head. "Can I flick your face?" Magnussen asked again. John leaned forward again in answer, and Magnussen raised a hand, flicking a finger against his cheek. John tilted his head back, instinctively as Magnussen flicked his face again, chuckling as his finger made contact with his face.

"I just love doing this." Magnussen grinned.

He looked across to Sherlock, and I followed his gaze. Sherlock kept his eyes on the ground, a pain in his face that I hadn't seen often before this moment. I bit the inside of my cheek, as Magnussen chuckled again, looking back to my brother, and had his hand lifted again, ready to flick him.

"It works like this." Magnussen began. "I know who Mary hurt and killed." he flicked John. "I know where to find people who hate her." He flicked him again and again. "I know where they live; I know their phone numbers." Two more. "All in my Mind Palace, all of it." He reminded.

I looked back at Sherlock, who, instead of gazing at the floor, was glaring at Magnussen.

"I could phone them all right now and tear your whole life down- and I will. Unless you let me flick my face." Three more times.

I looked over to Sherlock, gaging his reaction. His lip was lifted from his teeth just slightly in anger.

"This is what I do to people. This is what I do to whole countries." Magnussen informed us, straightening up. I saw John's shoulders relax, and so did mine, thinking Magnussen was done. "Just because I know." He bent down again. "Can I do you eye now?" he asked, but again, it wasn't much of a question. If John did not comply, Magnussen would make their lives a living hell without remorse, no apology, and a smile. The thought made my heart race, my stomach sick, and my blood boil once again.

"See if you can keep it open, hmm." He flicked John's eyebrow, and John blinked out of reflex and surprise.

"Come on, for Mary, keep it open."

"Sherlock?" John called, as Magnussen held his finger back with his thumb, ready to strike again,

"Let him, I'm sorry." Sherlock answered, sounding hurt. "Just...let him."

"Come on, eye open." Magnussen repeated, and flicked his eyebrow again, and again, John blinking each time, unable to do as Magnussen asked.

"It's difficult, isn't it?" He asked, straightening up. "Janine managed it once." He looked towards Sherlock. "She makes the funniest noises.

I heard a helicopter as men rushed onto the patio, armed. The helicopter hovered several yards away from the house, a spotlight pointed on the patio, illuminating it.

"Sherlock Holmes, Elizabeth Holmes, and John Watson," Mycroft's voice blaired over a speaker. "Stand away from that man."

"Here we go, Mr. Holmes." Magnussen yelled over the sounds of the helicopters.

Sherlock stepped forwards, and I followed him, nervously, my legs wobbling beneath me.

"To clarify; Appledore vaults only exist in you mind, nowhere else, just there." Sherlock asked.

"They're not real. They never have been."

"Sherlock Holmes, Elizabeth Holmes, and John Watson. Step away!" Mycroft repeated.

"It's fine! They're harmless!" Magnussen yelled to the helicopters.

"Sherlock, what do we do?" John asked.

"Nothing." Magnussen answered for him. "There's nothing to be done! Oh, I'm not a villain. I have no evil plan. I'm a businessman, acquiring assets. You happen to be one of them! Sorry. No chance for you to be a hero this time, Mr. Holmes."

"Sherlock Holmes, Elizabeth Holmes, and John Watson…" Mycroft started again, but I tuned him out, whether it was voluntarily, or involuntarily, I don't know, but I know that his voice sounded as if we were underwater, but I heard Sherlock's voice bright and clear right beside of me.

"Oh, do your research." Sherlock said, moving, and reaching towards John, grabbing something from his coat.

"I'm not a hero. I'm a high-functioning sociopath. Merry Christmas!" He pulled his hand from John's coat. I looked around just in time to see Sherlock raise John's pistol and point it at Magnussen, pulling the trigger.

I stared in shock, jumping as the gun sounded, unable to speak. Sherlock threw the gun, and turned back towards the helicopter.

"Get away from me." Sherlock shouted. "Stay well back."

"Christ, Sherlock." John exclaimed, raising his own hands as Sherlock was, using one hand to pull me back with him. Away from Sherlock.

I heard Mycroft over the speaker, commanding the police not to shoot.

"Oh, Christ, Sherlock." John repeated. I remained silent, having no idea what to say, or do, or what was going to happen.

"Give my love to Mary, and to Ophelia." Sherlock requested over his shoulder. "Tell Mary she's safe now. Tell Ophelia I love her, everyday."

Mycroft continued to scream over the speaker as Sherlock turned around to face them all again, and lowered his head.

* * *

John, Mary, and I sat in silence in 221B. John and I, after being taken in, had given our statements, and were allowed to go home.

I held Ophelia close to my chest as she played with a stuffed duck Sherlock and I had gotten for her for Christmas. She giggled, and threw the toy to the arm of the chair, which caught it. As she reached to grab it, something else caught her eye-my mobile phone. A recent obsession of hers.

Her fingers brushed against it, and I saw the disaster waiting to happen, using the duck she just threw as an example, and I grabbed it before she has the chance.

"No, no, sweetie. Use your phone." I reached into the small toy box, and gave her the small plush mobile phone. She grinned, throwing it up to her ear, and looking at me. I smiled as she mumbled into the phone, before putting the end of it in her mouth. I held back a laugh, pressing a button on my mobile to check the time.

The light caught Ophelia's attention, and she leaned forward, slamming a finger down on my touch screen.

"What are you doing?" I asked as she pointed to the photo I used of my background of her and Sherlock, taken without him knowing. Ophelia, however, grinned at the camera.

"Da." She said. My eyes snapped to hers, and she tapped the screen again. "Dada."

"What did she just say?" John asked, coming from the kitchen, drinks for him and Mary in hand.

Ophelia repeated her new word, as if answering her Uncle's question, and pointed at the phone. He grinned, grabbing his phone, and pulling up the camera. I smiled, kissing her forehead, and hoping Mycroft would let Sherlock see the video.

_Up next, the end of His Last Vow, and the Abominable Bride. I decided to do those together instead of adding the end to this chapter._

_Thank you to Nott01 again, who Beta'd (is that right?) this chapter! A massive help!_

_Sorry this is so late. I've been helping with VBS at my church, and it takes more out of you than I thought. I've been absolutely exhausted these past week. And I just helped with the snacks. I didn't teach anything._

_And when I wasn't at Bible School, I was at home, resting, and watching _Downton Abbey. _New addiction! I need season 4 NOW._

_Anyway, hopefully the next chapter will be here a lot sooner! I'm excited about writing _The Abominable Bride.

_Reviews:_

Red:This was so good! I'm glad you're doing 'The Abominable Bride'! I completely agree with you! Brilliant show, brilliant era! Brilliantly close to Doyle's stories as well!

_I am excited to start 'The Abominable Bride! I'm still trying to sort some things out, and get it ready to write, but it's almost there!_

From: Aubrey Cortez

Oh gosh. Now I'm worried and it's a cliffhanger. Wonderful.

_Thank you! And I'm sorry about the cliffhanger. I hate them, and I meant for this chapter to be out earlier. Sorry I didn't post sooner! Made the cliffhanger a little worse._

_Thank you again for the review!_

From: Lovely whim

I have to say, I read all 52 chapters in two days. I'm addicted. You are a true author. I can barely wait for more. Love ya :)

_All 52 in TWO DAYS! Wow! That's amazing! I am SO glad you're enjoying the story, and thank you so much for the wonderful compliment! Love ya too, dearie!_

From: AJ Parker758

Goodness me! I come back from going off the fanfic grid for so long, and I find several chapters I need to catch up on. I just read the last four chapters in just two hours, and I'm so happy!

Just a few comments regarding the last few chapters. I held a hand over my heart and drew out, "Awwwww," when I read about Sherlock thinking of Elizabeth, Ophelia, and of course Redbeard in his mind palce to help calm him down when he was shot. So sweet! And Irene Adler made a surprise guest appearance! That was nice! I never got to say this before, but I love what you did regarding Irene's character in this story. Seriously, every Sherlock fic I've read with a Sherlock/OC pairing portrays Irene as some evil harpy who has it out for the OC. It's not a bad trope, but it's been done waaayyy too many times that it's become a cliché in itself. Plus, Irene is too honorable a character to act like that anyway (at least, the original version of her in the books). So this was a very nice change. And, in addition, the rift in Sherlock and Elizabeth's relationship at the time only seemed to make their love for each stronger in the end. Love, love, love it!

I love Mary, she's awesome. But I think I'd react the same way Elizabeth did. I'd understand why she did what she did, but there still remains that fact that she lied. So I'd be righteously pissed as well.

I can't wait until the end of His Last Vow, and what you have planned for the Abomidable Bride! Keep writing!

_I had to add that into the Mind Palace scene, I just had to. It came to me as I was writing it, and so I stuck it in there. I'm glad you liked it!_

_Irene Adler, or so I'm told, actually made an appearance in the episode, or they planned for her to, anyway. The scene was deleted. The single rose in Sherlock's hospital room, though, was from her. I don't think Irene is evil. She's not an angel, by no means, but she's not, as you said, an 'evil harpy who has it out for the OC'. And I agree, she is a honorable character, too honorable to act that way. I think she would have been civil, same as Molly. I say it a lot, and I'll say it again, I hate the way some fanfictions portray Molly Hooper if they include an OC who is in a romantic relationship with Sherlock._

_Thank you so much for the review! I hope you like this chapter as well!_

From: GrantWard'sHipsterGlasses

Yet another great chapter! I actually found this episode really interesting as well. I have finished The Reichenbach Fall. I got so emotional, let me tell you. I actually have watched all of the episodes now, including The Abominable Bride, which was basically amazing. After I finished watching it, I had a period of like 4 days when I didn't want to do or watch anything else because I was still recovering!

I do try to review on every story that I read, unless I just found a reason to not really like it, in which case, if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all. I do mostly try to review though. I know that I would really appreciate any reviews on my story to see what people think.

_Thank you! I thought this episode was interesting as well! A bit different from the others, in my opinion, but still great!_

_I loved the 'The Abominable Bride'. It exceeded my expectations, and made my laugh out loud several different times, which is rare. I've only really laughed out loud because of 'Sherlock', and 'Downton Abbey'._

_I try to do the same, to review a lot, for the same reason. I know how happy reviews make me, and how much I really appreciate them, and how they make my day, so I try to leave a good review on the stories I read, unless, like you said, I can't really find anything nice to say._

_Thank you for the review, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!_

_~Eruaphadriel _


	54. Chapter 54

_Hello everyone._

_I know this is super short, but I wanted to get something up before I started really getting into the next chapter. I've started it, but I haven't gotten super far._

_For now, though, I think I might post some pre-written one shots instead, while we wait. So far, though, writing it's been great, and I can't wait to get that first chapter of 'The Abominable Bride' up for you guys!_

"You will look after him, won't you?" I heard Sherlock asking Mary as we approached him. Mycroft got a man to drive us to the airfield to say our goodbyes to Sherlock, though he never told us where he was going. Only that he had succeeded in keeping him out of prison, and that Ophelia could come along to say goodbye.

"Oh, don't worry." She answered, grabbing his shoulders. They kissed each other's cheeks, then Mary pulled him in for a hug. "I'll keep him in trouble."

He grinned, and pulled back as mary walked back towards the car, leaving John Ophelia and I alone with Sherlock. "So here we are." John was the first to speak up.

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes."

"Sorry?" John replied, confused.

"That's the whole of it, if you were looking for baby names." Sherlock admitted.

"No." John chuckled. "We've had a scan, we're pretty sure it's a girl."

"Oh." Sherlock said softly. "Okay, then. "

"You know, " John began again. "I have no idea what to say."

"No, neither do I." I admitted.

"Well, I would like to say something. I always meant to say it and I never have." Sherlock took a deep breath as John and I waited anxiously for his confession. "Sherlock is actually a girl's name."

John cracked a smile and I laughed.

"They're not naming their baby after you." I said. He shrugged.

"Worth a try." he nodded. "I think it could work."

Sherlock took off his glove, and reached his hand towards John."

"To the very best of times, John."

John took his hand, shaking it.

Sherlock released his grip, shoving his glove back on, and turning away, towards the plane. I thought he was leaving, but instead he spoke to Mycroft.

"Since this is likely the last conversation I'll have with Elizabeth, and the last time I'll see my daughter, would you mind if we took a moment?" He asked. Mycroft gestured for everyone to walk back towards the cars, and away from us.

I had done my best this past week to not cry, but the time I wanted to hold back my tears the most, was the time they betrayed me, and my eyes began to water.

'_...the last conversation…'_

"Where will you go?" I wondered.

"There's some undercover work in Eastern Europe my brothers put me up to."

"How long?"  
"Six months, he estimates. And he's never wrong."

"And after that?"

He shrugged. "Who knows." He admitted.

We were silent. He stared at the ground, while I shifted Ophelia, slightly, on my hip.

"The game is over." I realised.

"The game is never over, Elizabeth." Sherlock corrected, quickly. "But there may be some new players now, and that's okay. The East Wind takes us all in the end."

"The East Wind?" I wondered, not knowing what he was referring to.

"It's a story my brother used to tell me when we were kids. The East Wind, this terrifying force that lays waste to all in it's path. It seeks out the unworthy, and plucks them from the earth. That was usually me."

"Aw, that's nice." I said.

"I've told you, when we first met, he was a rubbish big brother."

I sighed, not knowing what to say.

"Elizabeth." I looked up. "Promise me that if some miracle happens, and I am able to come home, I will _not _find you in the state you were in after I faked my death. Please." he begged.

"I promise."

"Promise me you'll take care of yourself, and Ophelia."

"Of course I will."

"Don't do anything stupid."

"I promise." I laughed.

"Tell Ophelia I love her everyday, tell her about me."

"I promise." I repeated.

"And that since I most likely will not be coming back, promise me that you'll do as I asked before; move on,"

"No."

"Find someone better that I am, who loves you almost as much as I do, and who will give you and Ophelia a normal life."

"No." I repeated simply. "I can't promise that, don't make me." I shook my head.

He looked down and sighed.

"Just please, promise me to be happy."

"I promise."

He grinned, looking at Ophelia.

"You be good for mummy." he told her, and she giggled as he poked her nose, and kissed her forehead.

"Dada!" She pointed to him, and held out her arms, wanting him to hold her, but he didn't. Instead, he pulled me in for a hug, kissing the top of my head.

He pulled away, and smiled at me again, before turning away, back to the jet, and got in without turning around.

As the jet took off, John, Mary, and I watched it disappear, John had a hand on my shoulder.

A few minutes later, we turned to get into the car again and leave. John and Mary planned to take Ophelia for the night, and I planned to curl up in bed for a good cry, but Mycroft stopped us, and hung up the phone.

John told us to stay where we were, and went to talk to Mycroft himself, which seemed to have turned into a bit of a disagreement. Mycroft gestured to the car, and John stuck his head in. I leaned to see him through the windshield, and saw his face pale.

He ran towards us, shaking his head.

"What's wrong?" Mary wondered.

"Moriarty. He's back."

"But he's dead. He blew his own brains out. You can't survive that!" I argued.

"And you normally don't survive falling off a building, but Sherlock's alive." John shook his head again.

"So Moriarty is coming back?" Mary wondered.

"No idea. But if he is, he better wrap up warm."  
"Why?" John asked.

"There's an East Wind coming." I said, as the jet sped back towards the runway, and dipped to land.

* * *

_Reviews:_

_Lovely whim: _LOVED this chapter as well! Definitely looking forward to the next one! :)

_Thank you, dear. I'm so happy you liked it, and I hope you liked this one as well, even though it's so short (Sorry about that). Like I said, I wanted to get something up before I put up The Abominable Bride (which, sadly, will be a while…)_

_Red: _That end scene though… Adorable! Really excited for 'The Abominable Bride' of this!

_I've already started writing it, and I am so happy! Even my sister will admit that 'The Abominable Bride' was amazing (She doesn't really watch/ like Sherlock as much as I do, but she loves that episode!) And, since it was all set in his Mind Palace, or his mind if not the palace, I think it gave us more on an insight to how Sherlock thinks, and what he thinks of everyone else, or feels everyone thinks of him, but it can all be interpreted differently, depending on the person watching it. I just thought it was really interesting to watch, and it's one of the episodes I can watch, and notice several new times every time!_

_..Sorry about that. I ramble._

_My point: It was AMAZING! And I can't wait to write more of it!_

_And I'm glad you liked the end scene. I was debating on whether or not to add it in, or leave it for another time. I'm glad I added it :)_

_Likth: _Wait, just wait. Ok, no, wait. Ok, why the heck did you stop? Seriously, you had something absolutely fantastic, and you stopped. Why…?

_I haven't stopped forever! I pinky promise, there is much more to come! I'm sorry about the cliffhanger, though, if that's what you were referring to…_

_I do hope you are enjoying it though, and thank you for the review!_

_Alrighty, guys, have you seen the trailer for Sherlock season 4 yet? I hyperventilated when I saw it was released, but even more when I was watching (it was paused more than three times, to be honest. I needed to control myself)_

_Link to the trailer here: _

_ watch?v=DJPR28SqHqc_

_ watch?v=DJPR28SqHqc_

_(I put it there twice because fanfiction likes to delete things...Grr._

_Anyway, tell me what you think about season 4, what you hope to see, what you're excited to see ( I love Mycroft, but he had to really royally f-up for Mrs. Hudson to be rude and call him a reptile, just saying...I don't know if I'll like him after January.)_

_~Eruaphadriel_


	55. The Abominable Bride (1)

"Watson!" John Watson heard someone call behind him as he limped down the crowded London street.

He turned around to find a man walking towards him.

"Stamford." The man announced, pointing to himself. "Remember me? We were at Bart's together." He reminded, jogging Watson's memory, and he recognized his old friend.

"Yes, of course." He shook his hand. "Stamford."

"Good Lord!" Stamford exclaimed, looking at Watson, up and down. "Where have you been? You're as thin as a rake!"

Stamford was right. Watson had gotten thinner, he realized as he looked at his wrists, and he was starving. Luckily, Stamford had decided to treat his friend to a drink and some food.

"I made it home. Many weren't so lucky." He informed Stamford sadly, faces of his old war friends that didn't make it back flashing through his mind quickly.

"So, what now?"

"Hmm? I need a place to live. Somewhere decent, and an affordable price. It's not easy." He told him.

Stamford chuckled as Watson took a sip of his beer.

"You know, you're the second person to say that to me today."

"Hmm? Who was the first?"

Stamford led his friend to an underground mortuary. An odd place to meet someone, Watson thought, but he followed Stamford anyway.

Watson looked up from the ground and saw a man flogging a corpse, with what seemed to be a walking stick, through the window.

"Good Lord!" he exclaimed.

"It's an experiment, apparently. Beating corpses to establish how long after death bruising is still possible.

Watson watched a few more seconds, before continuing on down the hall.

"Is there a medical point to that?" He asked.

"Not sure." Stamford followed him.

"Neither am I. So, where's this friend of yours, then?" Watson wondered, turning back to Stamford, who was opening a door to the room the man was conducting his strange experiment, and his smile faded.

"Excuse me!" Stamford said as they entered the room.

The man continued to flog the corpse.

"I do hope we're not interrupting."

He hit the corpse once more, then turned.

"You've been in Afghanistan, I perceive." he turned around again, reaching into his pocket for his pocket watch.

"Doctor Watson, Mr. Sherlock…"  
The man tossed the walking stick to Watson, who caught it with ease.

"Excellent reflexes." He complimented, with a false smile, and he put his watch back in his waist coat pocket. "You'll do."

"I'm sorry?" Watson asked.

"I have my eye on a suite of rooms near Regent's Park. Between us, we could afford them."

"Rooms? Who said anything about rooms?"

"I did. I mentioned to Stamford this morning I was in need of a fellow lodger. Now he appears after lunch in the company of a man of military aspect with a tan and recent injury, both suggestive of the campaign in Afghanistan and an enforced departure from it." He paused to take a breath."The conclusion seemed inescapable." He grinned, looking down. "We'll finalize the details tomorrow evening." He walked towards the two, and they separated, and he took his walking stick from Watson.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a hanging in Woodsworth and I'd hate for them to start without me." He took his hat and coat from the coat rack, and put them on.

"A hanging?" Watson asked.

"I take a professional interest. I also play the violin and smoke a pipe. I presume that's not a problem."

"Er, no, well…"  
"And you're clearly acclimatised to never getting to the end of a sentence. We'll get along splendidly. Tomorrow, seven o'clock, then." He began to walk out of the room, but then turned back, as if he had forgotten something.

"Oh, and the name is Sherlock Holmes, and the address is two-hundred and twenty-one B Baker Street." And with that, he was gone.

Watson turned to look at Stamford, who was grinning.

"Yes, he's always like that."

"Doctor Watson." John heard a voice coming up the stairs of 221 B, and turned towards the door. "Doctor Watson!"

The young boy, Billy, ran up the stairs, an envelope in his hand. "A letter, Doctor Watson." He handed the envelope to him. Watson took it, reading the outside.

"Thank you." John said, opening it.

He read it in shock. A letter from his younger sister, Elizabeth, explaining how her fiance had been unfaithful, and she had nowhere to go.

He sat, wondering what to do, when he looked to his roommate, lying on the sofa, as if he were asleep, but Watson knew better.

Watson wasn't aware of anyone looking for a roommate, nor was he aware of any cheap accommodation. He knew family would be no help. Their mother traveled often, and their other sister wasn't the most pleasant person in the world, and very difficult to live with. Harriet and Elizabeth got along well, but he knew she would want to live with Harriet.

Suddenly, a solution dawned on him.

"Holmes." He didn't answer. "Holmes." He tried again, louder this time.

Holmes cracked an eye open.

"Yes?"

John didn't know where to begin.

"I've just had a letter from my sister."

"Interesting?" he wondered.

"Yes, slightly." he answered, and cleared his throat.

"She needs somewhere to go."

"I am not going to pretend I don't know what you are asking." He mumbled.

"What about it, then. She really won't be any trouble." Watson reasoned.

Holmes rose from the sofa, and stomped towards Watson, ripping the letter from his grasp, and reading it.

"Holmes!" Watson exclaimed. Holmes held a hand in the air, and continued reading.

He read the whole letter, before handing it back to his friend, and nodding.

"Will living with two men not seem a bit…"

"She won't mind, I promise."

"Then she must stay here!"

Elizabeth Watson let her skirts fall, as she knocked on the door of 221 B.

An older woman answered, grinning.

"Hello. My name is Elizabeth Watson, I'm looking for John Watson, my brother. Is he here?"  
The older woman gasped when she introduced herself, and grabbed her arm, leading her inside.

"Mrs. Hudson." the woman introduced herself, as Elizabeth removed her coat and hat.

"Oh, yes, John wrote about you."

"They should be home. I'll lead you upstairs."

Elizabeth went to carry her luggage, but a tiny hand stopped her.

"Oh, hello." She smiled at the young boy who reached for her luggage. He was young, and tiny, and smiling up at her, curls falling in front of his eyes.

"Hello, miss."

"What's your name." She bent down to his level.

"Billy, miss."

"Elizabeth Watson. I am very pleased to meet you, Billy." She stuck out a hand, and he shook it.

"Allow me to carry it." She said, afraid the case would be too heavy for him.

"No, miss, I can carry it. I'm strong enough, I promise." He gripped it in both hands, and heaved it up, but plopped it down on each stair as he walked up, the case proving to be a little too heavy. But Elizabeth wasn't about to challenge his 'manliness', and allowed him to continue.

She was grabbed as soon as she reached to door by her brother.

"John." She laughed, hugging him back.

He pulled her inside,

"Elizabeth Watson, this is Mr. Sherlock Holmes." He introduced his sister to his roommate, who was lying on the couch.

"I'll go and make sure your room is tidy, then." He said, and walked upstairs.

"Is this real?" Elizabeth wondered, pointing to a skull on the mantle.

"Yes. Please do not touch it." Sherlock Holmes mumbled.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

A group of carolers sung "Hark the Herald Angels Sing" and a new vendor for the Strand held out copies of that day's paper, crying that he had them, grabbing the attention of pedestrians, and Watson, who was passing in a hansom cab.

"Here." Watson called, and the cab stopped in front of the vendor.

"How's 'The Blue Carbuncle' doing?" Watson asked the vendor, who grinned.

"Very popular, Doctor Watson! Is there gonna be a proper murder next time?" He wondered.

"I'll have a word with the criminal classes." Watson promised.

"If you wouldn't mind." Came the vendor's response. He then pointed into the cab, at a dark shadow inside. "Is that 'im? Is 'e in there?"

Holmes kicked Watson's leg. "No, no, no, not at all. Ah, good day to you." He tipped a finger to his hat, and the cab went on.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Holmes!" The vendor yelled after them, and Holmes groaned.

When they arrived, the were met by Mrs. Hudson.

"Mr. Holmes. I do wish you'd let us know when you're planning to come home." She complained.

"I hardly knew myself, Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock answered as Billy, the houseboy, now old and strong enough to carry luggage, ran to greet Watson. "That's the trouble with dismembered country squires-they're notoriously difficult to schedule." He clamped his pipe between his teeth.

"What's in there?" Billy asked Watson, pointing to a case he was carrying.

"Nevermind." Watson answered quickly, walking inside behind his friend.

"Did you catch a murderer, Mr. Holmes?" Billy asked as they walked inside. Holmes heard new, and quiet footsteps coming from upstairs, and he grinned. He knew those footsteps well.

"Caught the murderer, still looking for the legs. I think we'll call it a draw." He answered, going inside, and his earlier suspicions were confirmed as Elizabeth descended the stairs, grinning at the sight of her brother and husband, Ophelia on her hip.

"And I noticed you've published another one of your stories, Doctor Watson." Mrs. Hudson spoke up.

"Yes. Did you like it?" He asked.

She thought for a moment. "No." She turned around, walking inside.

"Oh? Elizabeth,have you had the chance to read it?"

"Yes." She answered.

"What did you think?"

She didn't answer, settling for just scrunching her nose. Watson sighed.

"Why not?" He asked both women.

"Well, I never say anything do I? We never do. I just show people up the stairs and serve you breakfast!"

"Well, within the narrative, that it-broadly speaking-your function."  
"My what?!" She gasped, but Watson turned to his sister.

"I've helped you on several cases, cases you've published. Never have I been mentioned, or even illustrated, though I have been in the same room on several occasions."

"Don't feel singled out, ladies. I'm hardly in the dog one." Sherlock said, crossing the small entry way, and placing a quick kiss to his wife's cheek, then to his daughter's, who giggled as he took her from her mother, putting Ophelia on his own hip.

"The dog one?!"

"I'm your landlady, not a plot device."

"Do you mean 'The Hound of Baskervilles'?"

"And you make the room so drab and dingy." Mrs. Hudson went on complaining.  
"Oh, blame it on the illustrator, he's out of control. I've had to grow this mustache just so people'll recognise me." He went to follow Holmes, but stopped, turning to his sister. "And I'll talk to him about including you in a few illustrations." He compromised, and went up, Elizabeth following close behind.

Watson set the cases down in front of the sitting room, and Elizabeth went straight to the windows, opening the curtains of one, as Holmes opened the other. Watson had no earthly idea why they were closed, when Elizabeth had been here all day, it seemed, but he didn't question it. She may have gone out to see friends. Holmes and Watson had talked about their wives while they were on their way home, and he found that Elizabeth spent much of her time away from their flat, just as Watson's wife, Mary, did. He wondered if their was a limit to how much women could gossip, but then he supposed there was always something to gossip about. There were new articles in the papers everyday, new people moving into London, people moving out, affairs, births, deaths, weddings. The list went on. They had come to the conclusion that Mary and Elizabeth had just gotten caught up in conversations, though both admitted they thought their wives would be the last to participate in gossiping. They were surprised everyday, and worse things had happened.

When the curtains were pulled back, and light was let into the room, they saw a woman, in black mourning clothes, standing in front of the fireplace, a veil over her face, and her hands clasped behind her back.

"Good Lord!" Watson exclaimed.

"Mrs. Hudson," Holmes yelled, moving towards the front door. "There is a woman in my sitting room. Is this intentional?" He asked.

"She's a client!" Came Mrs/ Hudson's reply. "Said you were out, insisted on waiting."

Holmes grimaced, and Watson picked up a chair for the woman to sit in, but she wouldn't take it, nor would she respond.

"Didn't you ask her what she wanted?" Holmes asked.

"You ask her!"

"Well why didn't you ask her?" Holmes argued, turning to his wife, who was standing in the corner of the room, her lips pressed together, and she shook her head. Ophelia became distracted by the ear bobble swinging from her mother's ear, and made attempts to grab it.

"How could I, what with me not talking and everything."

Holmes sighed, annoyed. "Oh, for God's sake." He leaned to Watson. "Give her and Mrs. Hudson a few lines, They're perfectly capable of starving us."

He walked towards the woman, and smiled at her.

"Good afternoon, my name is Sherlock Holmes. This is my friend and colleague, Doctor Watson. You may speak freely in front of him, as he barely understands a word."

"Holmes."

"However, before you do, allow me to make some trifling observations." He walked closer to her, and began to circle her as she stood there.

"You have an impish sense of humor which currently you're deploying to ease a degree of personal anguish." He moved towards Watson, now, and circled him. "You have recently married a man of a seemingly kindly disposition who has now abandoned you for an unsavory companion of dubious morals. You have come to this agency as a last resort in the hope that reconciliation may still be possible."

"Good Lord, Holmes!"  
"All of this is, of course, perfectly evident from your perfume."  
"Her perfume?" Watson asked.

"Yes, her perfume, which brings insight to me, and disaster to you."

"How so?"

"Because I recognized it and you did it." He reached up and pulled a pin from the woman's veil, allowing it to fall and reveal the face of Mary Watson.

"Mary!"

"John." Mrs. Watson smiled.

"Why, in God's name are you pretending to be a client?"  
"Because I could think of no other way to see my husband, Husband."

_So I did what I thought I wasn't going to do, and I decided to do this episode in chapters as well. I knew it would be forever until I could finish it, but I didn't want there to be such a large gap in between chapters again, so here it is!_

_Reviews:_

_From: Robinhood4ever _

_(Chapter 1)_

_Keep writing! I love this story!_

_Thank you, dear! I plan to write until they stop making Sherlock (which will hopefully be a long ways away!)_

_Thank you for the review, and I am so glad you like it!_

_From:enp_

_YAY you're back!_

_I'm back! I am so sorry I've been away for so long! With school starting back, everything's been a little hectic, but I'm settling into the new routine, and I'm getting ready to start writing again!_

_PLus a have a new baby, a hamster, so I've been settling him in, and learning how to care for him, and bonding with him, which has taken a lot of my evenings, but we're BFFs now :) He's very tame, and he was when I got him, so there wasn't much of a problem there._

_But I'm back, and I won't be go for so long anymore!_

_From: Red (Guest)_

_Red:That's actually a very deep interpretation! (But I'm good with deep interpretations!) This was a brilliant way to fill in… stuff. (I don't know what I was saying!)_

_I LOVE the look of season 4! I agree with you on Mycroft (apart from not liking him, I'll always love Mycroft!), but they've never really been on good terms with each other, so it's not surprising, really, something had to happen between them like that eventually. That part always thrills me! And then the end. I know it off by heart, so that should say enough on it's own!_

_I always enjoy your reviews!I can't express how much I do!_

_I've read so many interpretations, and I love every single one I come across. I always appreciate a deep interpretation of just about anything! Love them! And there were so many interpretations for that episode alone, I was knee deep in them the night it aired, and a few days after. I wish I could find some again, but they're so lost on my Tumblr dashboard, it will be Christmas again before I find them!_

_I don't know about Mycroft, though. I love him too, and I hope whatever he's done, he will redeem himself, or it was just a misunderstanding, but I agree, something had to happen between them eventually. It was only a matter of time. Hopefully he will have a happy ending this season._

_From: A.J. Parker758_

_Oh, man, I can't wait to see what you've got cooking up for the special. But while I wait, I'll read some of your one-shots (which are always amusing and adorable)! I'm glad that Sherlock didn't end up being exiled. Ophelia need her daddy._

_And yes, I have seen the trailer for season four...and I'm not sure if I'm ready for it. It looks like it's going to be darker and more intense than the other season, and I don't know if I can take it. And yeah, Mycroft must've messed up pretty badly for Mrs. HUdson to call him that. *shudders* Ohhhh, this is gonna hurt._

_I couldn't exile Sherlock. I agree, she needs her daddy._

_And, oh, honey, I _KNOW _I'm not ready for this next season. It's going to hurt so bad, I can taste it. I can taste the tears already...and I'm going to love it. Hopefully they are just pulling out the darker moments, and hiding the happier, funnier, brighter scenes. This trailer was very intense, though, but hopefully the season won't be as dark as it seems. Either way, though, I'm sure it will be amazing, maybe not for my feelings, but the writing, and filming will be incredible, as usual!_

_I plan to get some more one-shots up (I just posted one, actually, before I posted this), and I love writing them so much! Some of the ideas I get from Tumblr, but I try to give credit, because the prompts are just so fun to write!_

_Thank you for reviewing!_

_~Eruaphadriel Xx_


	56. Chapter 56

Holmes had switched his jacket for a dressing gown, and played his violin while overlooking Baker Street from the window.

"It was an affair of international intrigue." Watson argued with his wife.

"It was a murdered country squire." The woman reminded him.

"Nevertheless, matters were pressing."

"I don't mind you going, my darling, I mind you leaving me behind!"

"But what would you do?"

"Well, what do you do, except wander around, taking notes, looking surprised…"

Holmes stopped playing, lowering the violin quickly.

"Enough!" He said, and the couple fell silent. "The stage is set, and the curtain rises. We are ready to begin." He said softly.

"Being what?" Elizabeth wondered. She had been standing on the other side of the room, away from Watson and Mary as they argued, already used to Her brother and husband going off on their own without her, and bringing back information for her to ponder over. She had taken Ophelia downstairs as well, knowing Mary and Watson were not going to be on the best of terms, and didn't want them to bother her, so she let Mrs. Hudson have her.

"Sometimes, to solve a case, one must first solve another."

:Oh, you've got a case, then, a new one?" Watson asked.

"An old one. Very old. I shall have to go deep." Holmes continued.

"Deep? Into what?"

"Myself." He replied quietly, then turned.

"Lestrade! Do stop loitering by the door and come in." He called over his shoulder loud enough for the Detective Inspector to hear. Lestrade entered the sitting room, panting anxiously.

"How did you know it was me?" He asked.

Holmes crossed the room to his chair, and ast down. "The regulation tread is unmistakeable; lighter than Jones, heavier than Gregson." He reached down and grabbed a Turkish slipper, and pulled some tobacco out, stuffing it in his pipe.

"I-I-I Just came up. Mrs. Hudson didn't seem to be talking." Lestrade noted.

"I fear she's branched into literary criticism by means of satire. It's a distressing trend in the modern landlady. What brings you here in your off-duty hours?" He questioned.

"How'd you know I'm off duty?"

"Well, since your arrival you've addressed over forty percent of your remarks to my decanter." He pointed to a table which held a silver tray with bottles, glasses, and a whisky decanter.

"Watson, give the Inspector what he so clearly wants."

Watson walked towards the decanter, and poured a glass for the Inspector, handing it to him.

"So, Lestrade, what can we do for you?" Watson asked.

"Oh, I'm not here on business." Lestrade replied. "I just thought I'd...drop by."

"A social call?" Watson asked.

"Yeah, of course, just to wish you the compliments of the season."

Holmes took the pipe from his mouth, and stared at the Inspector, both annoyed by the compliments of the season, and he knew there was more that the detective wasn't telling him, and he wanted to know what happened.

"Merry Christmas?" Lestrade tried.

"Merry Christmas." Holmes answered first.

"Merry Christmas." Watson copied.

"Merry Christmas." Mary was next, and then Elizabeth, who spoke up from behind Mary, who was perched on the arms of Watson's chair."Merry Christmas."

"Thank God that's over. Now, Inspector, what strange happening compels you to my door, but embarasses you to relate?"

Lestrade took a drink, and closed his eyes, shaking his head.

"Who said anything happened?" Lestrade questioned.

"You did." Holmes answered. "By every means short of actual speech."

Lestrade took another drink.

"Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah, Holmes? You have misdiagnosed." Watson butted in.

"The correct me, Doctor."

"He didn't want a drink, he needed one." He took the glass from Lestrade, and turned it upside down, and a drop fell on the floor. "He's not embarrassed; he's afraid."

Holmes smirked.

"My Boswell is learning. They do grow up so fast." He looked up at Mary and Elizabeth, who smiled at him.

"Watson restore the courage of Scotland Yard." Holmes demanded, and Watson did so.

"Inspector, sit down."

Lestrade sat in a chair Watson had pulled up for Mary. "I'm not afraid, exactly." Lestrade tried to admit again.

"Fear is wisdom in the face of danger, it is nothing to be ashamed of." Holmes assured him, getting a bit annoyed that Lestrade still wasn't telling them what he came to tell them.

"Thank you." Lestrade thanked John, who brought a glass to him.

"From the beginning, then." Holmes prompted, and Lestrade took a breath.

* * *

The woman stood in her wedding dress, the veil flipped over her head, revealing her face covered in white makeup, and her lips and the skin surrounding coated in blood red lipstick, giving her a sinister appearance. With one of the pistols she held, she shot down into the street, thankfully not wounding anyone, and instead, the bullet smashed into a shop window below, and people screamed and ran for safety.

"You!" She aimed her pistol at a man running along the street. He held his hands up in surrender and surprise.  
"No! Please!" He begged. She turned, and stared at the street below, and spotted another man running for cover.

"You?!" She shouted from the balcony. The man tried the door to the shop, but it was locked. He had no way out. Instead, he ran down the street, as she shot.

"_A moment." Holmes said, holding up a hand, "When was this?"_

"_Yesterday morning." Lestrade answered._

"_The bride's face, how was it described?"_

_Lestrade pulled out a notebook, and opened it to a page, reading what was written. "White as death, mouth like a crimson wound." He answered, as Holmes rose from the chair, and crossed the room._

"_Poetry or truth?" he asked._

"_Many would say they're the same thing." Lestrade argued._

"_Yes, idiots." Holmes answered, closing his eyes, exasperated. "Poetry or truth?" He asked again._

"_I saw her face myself. Afterwards." Lestrade answered._

"_After what?" Holmes turned to face him._

"You?" The bride asked, pointing her pistol at another man, then stopped, thinking, the maniacal smile falling. "Or me?"

She lowered the pistol in her left hand, and raised the pistol in her right to her mouth, and pulling the trigger, blood spattering the curtains behind her, as people in the street cried out.

"_Really Lestrade?" Holmes asked, walking to his chair. "A woman blows her own brains out in public, and you need help identifying the guilty party. I fear Scotland Yard has reached a new low."_

"_I'm sure he's not finished." Elizabeth butted in, glaring at her husband, and then looking at Lestrade._

"_She's right, and that's not why I'm here." Lestrade continued._

"_I surmise." Holmes responded._

"_What was her name?" Watson asked, notebook open in his lap. "The bride?"_

"_Emelia Ricolettie. Yesterday was her wedding anniversary. The police, of course, were called, and her body taken to the morgue." He took a drink._

"_Standard procedure. Why are you telling us what may we presume?"_

"_Because of what happened next. Limehouse, just a few hours later_"

A man, smartly dressed, walked out of the building, and walked down the street.

"_Thomas Ricolettie, Emalia Ricolettie's husband."_

"_Presumably on his way to the morgue to identify her remains."_

"_As it turns out, he was saved the trip."_

A hansom cab approached Thomas, and he turned to watch it. It stopped, and the door opened.

"_Do not foget me,"_

Thomas raised his hands as Emelia got out of the cab. The veil was covering her face now, so no one could see who she was, and a shotgun in her hands, pointed at him.

"_Remember the maid…"_

"Who are you?" Thomas demanded.

"_The maid of the mill."_

"Why are you doing this? Just tell me who you are?" Thomas asked.

"Do you recognise our song, my dear? I sang it at our wedding." She said, and pulled the veil up to reveal her face, her lipstick smeared more, and powder burns around her lips

"Emelia, you're dead. You can't be here, you died." Thomas said, his voice quivering.

"Am I not beautiful, Thomas? As beautiful as the day you married me?" She asked. A officer ran from the street behind her, but stopped.

"What the hell is all this about?" The officer asked.

"What does it look like my handsome friend?" The bride asked, turning to him, and then back to her husband. "It's a shotgun wedding." She smiled, and shot.

* * *

"'Till death do us part. Twice in his case." Holmes commented, smiling at Lestrade.

"Extraordinary!" Watson exclaimed.

"Impossible." Mary added.

"Superb! Suicide as street theatre; murder by corpse. Lestrade, you're spoiling us. Watson, your hat and coat." He got up from his chair, and walked towards the door.

"Where are we going?" Watson asked, rising from his chair as well.

"To the morgue. There's not a moment to lose…" He switched the dressing gown for his coat. "...which one can so rarely say of a morgue." He added.

"And are we just to sit here?" Mary asked, referring to herself and Elizabeth.

"Not at all, we'll be hungry later." Watson answered, while Holmes glanced at him, almost disapprovingly, but said nothing. Elizabeth's mouth hung open, however, and Watson could tell there was a protest forming, but Watson didn't have the time to listen to it. Holmes never minded if Elizabeth or Mary accompanied them, other than the fact it was dangerous, could be a bit crowded if it were four of them, and not work for a woman, but Watson had the final say on that matter, he supposed.

"Holmes just one thing." Watson looked down at his attire. "Tweeds in a morgue?"

"Needs must when the devil drives, Watson." They hurried down the stairs, leaving the two women and Lestrade in the sitting room. Lestrade had already gotten up, and nodded towards the women.  
"Ladies." he said in a farwell.

"We're part of a campaign, you know." Mary blurted.

Lestrade stopped in his tracks, surprised. "Oh yeah? Campaign?"  
"Votes for women." Elizabeth explained.

"Oh? And are you...for, or against?" He wondered, seriously. Elizabeth sighed, pointing towards the door.

"Get out."

Lestrade left, and Mary plopped down in Watson's chair, while Elizabeth moved to the window, watching her husband and brother get into a cab.

"Ooh, ooh!" Mrs. Hudson knocked, and Elizabeth turned to see her carrying Ophelia. She held out her arms, and Mrs. Hudson passed the girl to her mother.

"Have they gone out again, have they?" She wondered. "I dunno-what a life those gentlemen lead."  
"Yes, those _gentlemen_." Mary mumbled.

"Oh, never you mind." She said, turning to go back out, then turned around again. "Oh, I almost forgot. These came for you two, ladies." She held out two small envelopes, and Elizabeth grabbed them, handing the one with Mary's name on it to her.

Elizabeth opened hers hastily, and read it.

_M_

One side said. She flipped it over, already knowing who it was. She looked at Mary, who was slightly confused, until she turned it over.

_Immediately._

Both women smiled, and looked at each other. Mary rose from the chair.

"Tell our husbands that we'll be home late." Elizabeth handed Ophelia back to Mrs. Hudson. "You don't mind watching her for a few hours longer, do you?" She asked. The landlady smiled.

"Not at all!" She took the little girl, placing her on her hip. "Is everything alright?" She wondered.

"Oh, you know, just a…" Mary looked to Elizabeth, waving her hand, trying to find what to say, but then came up with something. "A friend in need."

"Oh dear." Mrs, Hudson said as the women made their way to the door. "What friend.

"England." Mary replied simply as they walked out, smiling at eachother down the stairs.

"Well that wasn't very specific." Mrs. Hudson said to Ophelia, who was gnawing on her fingers.

_A bit of an odd chapter to write, but I've done it!_

_The next chapter will be up a bit slower, as my grandmother who I was very close to, has passed away early yesterday morning, so I am taking time off from writing to be with my family, and if I have time I will write some one-shots maybe. But we've had several visitors today, and a busy day tomorrow, so I'm unsure if I will have time. I'm sorry, I know updates are slow as it is, but I feel like writing should be on the back burner for just a few days. And thank you guys for understanding. :) She's the one who actually got me to watch, and really like Sherlock, so in a way, she's kind of the reason why I started this fanficiton in the first place..._

_I do have a oneshot on the way, though, one that I've been thinking about for a while, and I'm excited about it! It should be up sometimes around, or shortly after this chapter, so watch out for that._

_Reviews:_

_From: Morgan (Guest)_

_Morgan:Love it love it love it love it :)_

_Thank you! I'm thrilled you love it! :)_

_From: Red (Guest)_

_Red:This was very good, apart from a few spelling mistakes. Apart from that, very good!_

_Thank you! And I apologize for the spelling errors. My beta is unavailable right now, and I'm not as great at editing as she is (she does an excellent job!), but I don't know when she will be back in action. I'll try to do better when looking for mistakes. Thank you for the review!_

_From:LadyRedStar (Guest)_

_LadyRedStar:Oh I love this episode! I can't wait to see more of it!_

_I love this episode too! I loved what they did with it! And I can't wait to write more of it!_

_From: i-am-sherlocked-for-life-221B_

_Oh I'm so happy you updated! I'm so excited to see what's going to happen!_

_I absolutely can't wait to show you! :) I love your username, by the way!_

_FromSad rad fish_

_Ayyeeee_

_This s888 good_

_Thank you! I'm not going to lie, your review made me laugh, not making fun, but it was just a little...unexpected. I love it! Thank you so, so much!_

_From: A.J. Parker 758_

_Ohhhhh yeahhhh! This is going to be good!_

_I think this is the first Sherlock/OC story (that I know of) that's actually made it to the Abominable Bride episode so far. Good on you for keeping this story going and making it this far!_

_Thank you! And I don't know any Sherlock/OC story that has made it to TAB yet. I'll tell you ,it wasn't easy, and there were times I've wanted to give up on this story (especially with a very, very complicated chapter like this will be), but I'm glad I didn't! It's been a rough year, and a rewarding year, and I would do it all again! I've loved writing every chapter, but I don't want it to end, because then I have to wait until January to write again! *Sighs* that just means more one-shots :)_

_Thank you for the review!_

_From: GrantWard'sHispterGlasses_

_Yay, the Abominable Bride! I've been really looking forward to this. This episode is one of my favorites!_

_It's one of my favorites too! I've been so excited about this! I hope I do this episode justice!  
-_

_From galwidanatitud_

_Finally caught with all the chapters after a very extensive marathon reading. Love it! Hope to read more. :D_

_I'm so glad you caught up, and that you've enjoyed it! Hopefully this chapter will be just as good!_

_~Eruaphadriel Xx _


	57. Chapter 57

"Who's on mortuary duty?" Holmes asked Lestrade on their way to the morgue.

"You know who." Lestrade told him.

"Always him." Holmes complained.

* * *

"Please tell me which idiot did this." Holmes yelled in the morgue, staring at the body of Emilia, wrapped in chains on the slab.

"It's for everyone's safety." Anderson explained, pausing his chores. It made Holmes almost smile to see him sweeping the floor, instead of working with Scotland Yard.

Watson removed the sheet from her head, exposing her face.

"This woman is dead." Watson said. "Half her head is missing! She's not a threat to anyone!"  
"Tell that to her husband." Anderson scoffed, and pointed to another table. "He's on a sheet over there."

"Whatever happened in Limehouse that night, I think we can safely assume it wasn't the work of a dead woman.

"Stranger things have happened." Anderson pointed out.

"Such as?" Holmes wondered, knowing Anderson wouldn't have an answer.

"Well...strange things."

"You're speaking like a child." Watson added.

"This is clearly a man's work." Holmes said, looking down at the body. "Where is he?"

The morgue door opened, and a man in a suite, and with a mustache, entered the room, stopping in front of the door when he stopped the detective.

"Holmes." He said.

"Hooper." Holmes responded. "You-back to work." She said to Anderson, who quickly went back to sweeping.

"So, come to astonish us with your magic tricks, I suppose."

"Is there anything to which you would like to draw my attention?" Holmes asked, wanting to get down to business.

"Nothing at all, Mr. Holmes. You may leave any time you like." Hooper responded coldly.

"Dr. Hooper, I asked Mr. Holmes to come here. Co-operate. That's an order." Lestrade butted in.

"There are two features of interest, as you are always saying in Doctor Watson's stories."

"I never say that. Holmes argued.

"You do, actually, quite a lot. Watson nodded.

"First of all, this is definitely Emelia Ricoletti. She has been categorically identified. Beyond a doubt it is her."

"Then who was that at Limehouse last night?" Watson asked Hooper.

"That was also Emelia Ricoletti."

"It can't have been. SHe was dead. She was here."

Holmes bent down with a small magnifying glass, looking at Emelia's face.

"She was positively identified by her own husband seconds before he died. He had no reason to lie. He could hardly be mistaken."

"The cabbie knew her too." Lestrade added. "There's no question it's her."

"But she can't have been in two places at the same time, can she?"

"No, Watson." Holmes straightened. "One place is strictly the limit for the recently deceased."

Watson snapped his fingers. "Holmes, could it have been twins?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because it's never twins."

"Emelia was not a twin, nor did she have any sisters. She had one older brother who died four years ago." Lestrade informed them.

Watson sok his head. "Maybe it was a secret twin."

"A what?" Holmes asked.

"A secret twin. Hmm? You know? A twin that nobody knows about? This whole thing could have been planned."

"Since the moment of conception? How breathtakingly prescient of her! It is never twins, Watson."  
"Then what's your theory?"

Holmes turned to Lestrade. "More to the point, what's your problem?"

"I-I don't understand. What…"

"Why were you so frightened? Nothing so far has justified your assault on my decanter, and why have you allowed a dead woman to be placed under arrest?"  
"Ah." Hooper spoke up. "That's the other feature of interest." Hooper lifted the hand of the corpse, showing them the index finger.

"Ah. I smear of blood on her finger. That could have happened any number of ways."

"Indeed." Hooper lowered the hand. "There's one other thing. It wasn't there earlier."

"And neither," Lestrade moved towards the back wall, pointing at it. "was that." HE picked up a lantern, holding it to the wall, which read 'YOU' in blood.

"Holmes!"

"Gun in mouth;" Holmes said softly. "A bullet through the brain; back of the head blown clean off. How could he survive?"

"She, you mean?" Watson asked, confused.

"I'm sorry?"

"Not 'he', 'she'."

"Yes, yes of course." he said, absently. He turned to them. "Well, thank you for a fascinating case. I'll send you a telegram when I've solved it. Watson?" He walked out, but Watson stayed behind, turning to Hooper.

"Er, the gunshot wound was obviously the cause of death, but there are clear signs of consumption. Might be worth a post mortem. We need all the information we can get." He turned to leave himself, when Hooper called to him. "Oh, isn't he observant now that Daddy's gone?" Watson stopped, and hooper smirked.

"I am observant in some ways, just as Holmes is blind in others."

"Really?"

"Yes, really." Watson knew Hooper, and knew who he-she- really was. Molly Hooper, a good friend of Elizabeth's and Mary's, though where they could have possibly met, he had no idea. "Amazing what one has to do to get ahead in a man's world." He doffed his hat to her, and put it back on as he left.

"What's he saying that for?" Anderson wondered.

"Get back to work!"

* * *

"Well, Holmes." Watson began while they were on their way home. "Surely you must have some theory."

"Not yet." Holmes replied. "These are deep waters, Watson. Deep waters. And I must go deeper still."

* * *

**_Several months later_**

"Five of them, now." lestrade said to Holmes, who was pacing back and forth, a book in hand. "All the same, every one of them."

"Hush, please. This is a matter of supreme importance."

"What is?"

"The obliquity of the elliptic. I have to understand it.

"What is it?"

"I don't know. I'm still trying to understand it."

"I thought you understood everything." Lestrade said.

"Of course not. That would be an appalling waste of brain space. I specialise."

"Then what's so important about this?"

"What's so important about five broing murders?" Holmes said, loudly. He heard Ophelia whimper from her crib, forgetting that Elizabeth had put her down for a nap before she left that afternoon. Luckily for the detective, she only stirred, and went back to sleep.

"They're not boring!" Lestrade argued, quietly. "Five men dead! Murdered in their own homes; ice on the floor, like at a wedding; and the word 'YOU" written in blood on the wall!" Holmes ignored him, reading his book. "Uh, it's-it's her! It's-it's the bride. Somehow she's risen again!"  
"Solved it." Holmes replied, nonchalantly.

"You can't have solved it!" Lestrade yelled, and Ophelia stirred again.

"PLease keep it down, don't wake her!" Sherlock whispered, angrily. "Of course I've solved it. It's perfectly simple. The Incident of the Mysterious Mrs Rocoletti, the Killer from Beyond the Grave, has been widely reported in the popular press. Now, people are disguising their own dull little murders as the work of a ghost to confuse the impossible imbecilic Scotland Yard. There you are; solved."  
He closed the book, putting it on the table.

Lestrade gave up, not wanting to argue with the detective.

"Alright, well, is Elizabeth here, then? I would like to say goodbye before I go."  
"She's out."

"Ah." Lestrade nodded, noting the annoyance in Holmes's voice. "She's been out the last few times I've been here? What could she possibly be doing?"

"No idea." Holmes answered.

"Well, at least you have Mrs. Hudson to make supper when she's not here."

"No, she's still upset. I can make my own supper. Pay her a visit on your way out, she likes to feel involved. And tell her I need her to keep an eye on Ophelia."

"I will. You sure?" Lestrade asked one final time.

"Certainly. Go away."

"Watson, I'm ready. Get your hat and boots. We have an important appointment."

"Didn't Doctor Watson move out a couple months ago?" Lestrade wondered.

"He did, didn't he? Who have I been talking to all this time?"

"Well, I'm sure ophelia has proved to be good company. But, speaking on behalf of the imbecilic Scotland Yard, that chair is empty."

"It is, isn't it? Works surprisingly well, though. I actually thought he was improving."

* * *

Watson stared at the empty dining table, where Mary usually sat in the morning. He sighed, looking back down at his paper. Moments later, he picked up a small bell, ringing it for a few seconds, and put it back down, waiting. He checked his watch, shaking his head, obviously not satisfied waiting so long for the maid to come through the door, and stop in front of the table.

"Ah. where have you been?"

"sorry , sir. I'm rather behind my time this morning."

"Are you incapable of boiling an egg? The fires are rarely lit; there is dust everywhere; and you almost destroyed my boots scraping the mud off them. If it wasn't my wife's business to deal with the staff, I would talk to you myself. Where is my wife?" Watson wondered.

"Begging your pardon, sir, but the mistress has gone out."

"Out? At this hour of the morning?"

"Yes, sir. Did you not know that, sir?"

"Where did she go?" He looked back down at the newspaper. "She's always out these days."

"Not unlike yourself." The maid said with a soft laugh. Watson did not find humor in her comment, and glared at her. "...sir." She added.

"I'm sorry?"

"Just observing, sir."

"Well, that's quite enough. Nobody asked you to be observant."

"Sorry, sir. I just meant you're hardly ever home together anymore, sir."

"You are dangerously close to impertinence." He leaned forward. "I shall have a word with my wife to have a word with you." He sat back, looking at the newspaper again.

"Very good, sir. And when will you be seeing her?" The maid asked.

"Now listen…" He leaned forward.

"Oh, I nearly forgot, sir."

She reached into her apron pocket, and got out an envelope. "Er, a telegram came for you."

"You forgot?!"

"No, I nearly forgot." She answered as Watson ripped the telegram from her hand.

"What have you been doing all morning." He asked, opening the telegram.

"Reading your new one in The Strand, sir."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Why do you never mention me, sir?"

"Go away."

The maid turned and left, a grin on her face, as Watson read the telegram.

_DR JOHN WATSON_

_COME AT ONCE_

_IF CONVENIENT._

_IF INCONVENIENT,_

_COME ALL THE SAME._

_HOLMES_

* * *

"The what of the what?" Watson asked.

"The obliquity of the ecliptic." Holmes answered.

"'Come at once' you said.I assumed it was important.

"It is. It's the inclination of the Earth's equator to the path of the sun on the celestial plane."

"Have you been swatting up?" Watson scoffed.

"Why would I do that?"

"To sound clever."

"I am clever." Holmes stated, as if it were a known fact.

"Oh, I see." Watson nodded.

"You see what?"

"I deduce we're on our way to see someone cleverer than you." Watson grinned, knowing who exactly they were going to see, and who Holmes was going to dazzle with his new-found information.

They walked into the building in complete silence, as was the tradition at The Diogenes Club. They approached the desk, Holmes smiling, and then his hands rose, and he began to sign to the man standing behind the desk.

"_Good morning Wilder. Is my brother in?_"

Wilder nodded. "_Naturally, sir. It's breakfast time."_

"_Yes, sir." _He nodded, and Holmes gestured towards Watson.

"_The gentleman is my guest."_ Holmes signed.

Wilder turned to Watson. "_Ah, yes. Dr. Watson, of course. Enjoyed 'The Blue Carbuncle' sir."_

Watson, who barely understood what Wilder said, other than the compliment, and couldn't sign himself, tried to answer.

"_Thank you.I...am...glad...you...liked it. You are very...ugly."  
_Wilder looked at him, surprised, and Holmes glared.

"_I beg your pardon?"_

"_Ugly. What you said about 'The Blue Fishmonger'. Very ugly...I am glad you liked my potato."_

Wilder looked at Holmes for an explanation.

"_Yes. Need's work, Watson. Too much time spent on dancing lessons."_

"Sorry, what?" Watson asked aloud, but Holmes walked away, rolling his eyes.

"Oh." Watson exclaimed, following after his friend.

The entered the room Holmes' brother always occupied, and found the man squished in a chair, surrounded by food. Pudding, cakes, various meats and few vegetables, too few for Doctor Watson's liking. This amount of food, and the selection, wasn't healthy for anyone, and when John was reminded of the older Holme's...size, he wanted to scold him for his choices. But the smell, he couldn't deny, made his mouth water.

"To anyone who wishes to study mankind, this is the spot." Mycroft told them as they walked in front of him.

"Handy, really, as your ever-expanding backside is permanently glued to it." Holmes commented. "Good morning, brother mine."

"Sherlock." Mycroft greeted, still chewing. "Doctor Watson." He held out a hand for Watson to shake, and he took it.

"You look...well, sir." Watson complemented, however much he didn't want to.

"Really? I rather thought I looked enormous." He picked up a glass, taking a sip.

"Well, now that you mention it, this level of consumption is incredibly injurious to your health. Your heart…"

"No need to worry on that score, Watson." Holmes interrupted. Watson couldn't help but feel a little angry at his friend; he finally got the chance to demonstrate his medical knowledge to someone infinitely more intelligent than himself (making himself look much smarter), and a chance to make Mycroft aware of the consequences of his actions.

"No?" Watson asked.

"There's only a large cavity where that organ should reside." Holmes commented.

"It's a family trait." Mycroft added.

"Oh, I wasn't being critical."

"If you continue like this, sir, I give you five years at the most."

"Five?" Mycroft wondered. "We thought three, sis we not, Sherlock?"

"I'm still inclined to four."

"As ever you see, but do not observe. Note the discoloration in the whites of my eyes, the visible rings of fat around my corneas…"

"Yes, you're right." Holmes admitted. "I"m changing my bet to three years, four months, and eleven days."

"A bet?!" Watson exclaimed.

"I understand your disapproval, Watson, but if he's feeling competitive it is perfectly within his power to die early."

"That's a risk you'll have to take." Mycroft butted in.

"Just don't breath a word of it to Elizabeth. She becomes furious when we make bets, and if she find out about this one, there will be hell to pay." Watson saw him almost shudder. Elizabeth was rarely ever mad, but Watson had seen her when she was, and it wasn't pretty. She was terrifying, and not the most pleasant person to be around for while after the argument was finished.

"You're gambling with your own life?" Watson turned his attention to Mycroft, who seemed content with himself.

"Why not? It's so much more exciting than gambling with others'"

Holmes nodded towards a plate on the table. "Three years if you eat that plum pudding."

"Done!"

_Eek! So I've been gone a while._

_I am so sorry for my long absence. As I said the last time, I had a grandmother I was very close to pass away about a month ago, and I wanted to take some time off...and I did! Thank you to everyone who sent such kind words. They really warmed my heart to read them, and made the whole process a thousand times easier. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart._

_But I feel better now, I got a little out of routine, that's why I've been so silent (sorry again), but I'm back now._

_Reviews:_

_From: A.J Parker758_

_So Elizabeth works with Mycroft's along with Mary. Very interesting...for some reason now, I'm starting to see those two like Charlie's Angel's spies...Victorian edition. Weird, I know. Can't wait to see how this plays out!_

_And I'm truly, truly sorry for your loss. I recently lost a close family member too, and I know how hard it is at first. But as long as you have your family and the people you love by your side, you can and will pull through. Stay strong, my friend._

_*gives warm bear hug*_

_Thank you so much! The Charlie's Angels wasn't weird at all! I never thought of it like that, and it kind of makes my chuckle a little...or a lot._

_Thank you for your kind words, and I'm very sorry for your loss as well. It really isn't easy, at all. The few days before the funeral, I was okay. At first I was upset, and then it was kind of business as usual, until I had to go to her house, and I would sit, and expect her to walk into the room with laundry, ot sewing in her chair, or watching TV. She was a big Sherlock fan, and I planned to watch an episode (or all of them) with her when Season 4 came on, so it's really bummed me out. The day of the funeral, though, it hit me hard. But I'm okay, and I'm getting used to her absence. I don't like it, I wish she was still her to watch Sherlock, and Outlander, and have outrageous conversations with, but I'm okay, and my family made it much, much, MUCH easier!_

_And thank you for the hug :) *returns bear hug*_

_From: Aubrey Cortez_

_(Chapter 53)_

_Lol, VBS is one of the most exhausting things out there. All those little rugrats…*shivers* Alright! Time to answer the question you're probably asking. No, I'm not dead. Why has it taken me so long? Funny story, I didn't actually follow this story, (Accidentally) and I didn't get alerting of the new chapters. Oops. I'm going to catch up tonight. Till then, _

_Cheers._

_(Chapter 54)_

_How can you say that? Mycroft is amazing forever! Oh Gosh, now I'm thinking about it and now I'm worried. I love Mycroft so much I can't imagine he can ever do anything unforgivable. Oh gosh oh gosh og gsoh_

_(Chapter 56)_

_ALRIGHT! I've caught up. I've tried reading this story before but I've always had other things come up and then I couldn't remember where I was so I had to restart and blah blah blah blah, on and on. Finally, I got the chance to read it through, in three days no less, and I want to say that I love it. You're writing has definitely improved since the start (it wasn't bad to being with, it's just gotten better) and Elizabeth has become, in my opinion, a much stronger character. I was honestly expecting more of a reaction from Elizabeth after the whole CAM situation, you know with Sherlock committing a crime and all, and I'm super excited to find out more on her thoughts about it. I also can't wait to see how TAB plays out, especially with the addition of Elizabeth. And I also really want to know how exactly Elizabeth and Sherlock got together in the TAB reality._

_Nice job on this story, It's really impressive and I can't wait to read more. Keep it up!_

_Thank you so much, my dear! I was wondering where you had been! I've made that mistake before so many times, I can't count, forgetting to follow a story, and start a fanfic, and get caught in something else (that's just happened to me now, actually, with a Sherlock fanfiction called 'Brilliant" by on Wattpad. Obviously, they're a much better author than I am, but that was one of the many stories that inspired me to write my own.) _

_I don't want to believe Mycroft did anything wrong! I want to believe that he is just a little, angry man that we can wrap in a blanket, and keep high on the shelf, but I don't think he's going to be entirely innocent in season 4 *hides face* Sorry, but that's what I think. Hopefully, HOPEFULLY it's just a misunderstanding!_

_We're going to see a lot more of Elizabeth, and her reaction to the CAM situation maybe in the next chapter (or the one after? I can't remember how I had this planned out, to be honest!) But there will be more of a reaction. And, for how Elizabeth and Sherlock got together in Victorian times, I'm going to do a oneshot based off of that, and I'm SO excited about it!_

_Thank you so much for the compliments as well. I'm glad my writing is improving, and hopefully it continues to do so. Reading and writing both have really helped my writing improve! Thank you again, and I hope you liked this chapter !_

_From: Morgan (Guest)_

_Amazing chapter. I'm so sorry about your grandmother_

_Thank you, and thank you again._

_From:galwindanatitud_

_Never realized how condescending Watson sounded. The nerve!_

_Oh, I am so glad I was with family when watching it the first time, because that's the only thing that held me back from screaming. I was so angry about that! Not with the writers, but with Watson. How dare he?_

_Thank you for the review!_

_From:Red (Guest)_

_Red: I loved this chapter! Elizabeth was definitely more involved here. :)_

_I'm glad you enjoyed it. I tried to involve her a lot more in this episode :)_

_From:Kk1987 (guest)_

_Kk1987 : Fantastic chapter, my condolences for your loss I know how you must be feeling as I lost my nan in January, if you feel like you need to talk I'm only a message away._

_Thank you so much, dear, and ditto. My inbox is ALWAYS open. If you ever need anything, please don't hesitate to send a message through. I try to answer as soon as I get the notification._

_Thank you so much, it means a lot. Truely. :)_

_So, that's all the reviews. I promise it won't take a month for me to update again. I'm already working on the rest of the episode!_

_~Eruaphadriel Xx_


	58. Chapter 58

It was almost silent in 221 B, except for Ophelia's occasional giggling. It was one of the rare days this week that Elizabeth had been home most of the morning, and Watson had even come over, only planning to stay a short while and visit his niece. Watson and the toddler were in his chair, while Holmes sat in his, pretending to be reading a book he grabbed from the shelf, but was, instead, watching his daughter try to grab the toy from Watson's hands, laughing when she missed and her hands clapped together.

Holmes heard a knock at the door, but didn't bother to get up and get it. Mrs. Hudson would answer it if he didn't, or Elizabeth would.

After the fifth knock, Holmes sighed and Elizabeth retreated down stairs, shaking her head at her husband who was 'too busy' to move.

"Thank you, Mrs. Holmes." A woman said as she entered the room. Elizabeth reappeared in the other room, continuing to read, but Holmes knew she was listening, like she did with every case. Holmes never had a problem with her assisting them, but Watson would shoo her out, saying it wasn't a woman's job or business, but she helped more than Watson knew.

The woman Elizabeth brought up was well dressed, and she sat in the dining chair Watson pulled out for her.

"Mr. Holmes, I have come here for advice."

"That is easily got."

"And help."

"Not always so easy." Holmes admitted.

"Something has happened, Mr. Holmes-something...unusual and...terrifying."

"Then you are in luck."

Lady Carmichael scoffed. "'Luck'?"

"Those are my specialisms." He smiled at Watson. This is really very promising." Watson remember Ophelia, and called for Elizabeth to take her.

"Is she your daughter?" Lady Carmichael asked Holmes.

"Yes, she is."

The Lady smiled. "She's very beautiful."

"She's only a-"

"Thank you." Elizabeth cut in, grinning from ear to ear, balancing Ophelia on her hip.

Lady Carmichael turned from his wife and daughter, back to him, taking a deep breath.

"Please, do tell us what has so distressed you."

"I-I thought long and hard as to what to do, but then, er, it occurred to me that my husband was an acquaintance of your brothers, and that through him…" She trailed off. "The fact is, I'm not sure this comes within your purview, Mr. Holmes."

"No?" He asked.

"Lord help me, I think it may be a matter for a priest."

"_And what does your morning threaten, my dear?"Sir Eustace asked Lady Carmichael at breakfast. "A vigorous round of embroidering? An exhausting appointment at the millers?"_

_Lady Carmichael cut off some of her breakfast. "I hope you are teasing, Eustace."_

_He chuckled as a footman brought in a letter on a silver plate, along with a letter opened. Sir Eustace took the mail, opening the first envelope, but upon looking inside, he froze._

"_What is it?" His wife asked, seeing her husband's reaction. He didn't respond. "Eustace?" She asked, but still no reaction. She put down her knife and fork._

"_Daniel, Sophie, go out and play." She ordered the two children across from her.  
_"_But Mama…" Sophie began, but the Lady stopped her._

"_Do as I tell you. Quickly, now." The children left, and the Lady rose from her seat, going to her husband, and taking the envelope from him, tilting it in her hand. Out poured five orange pips in her palm, and she laughed._

"_Eustace! What does this mean?" She continued laughing, and Eustace looked at her, his expression not changing._

"_Death." _

"_What?"_

"_It means death." His eyes were watering, but still he tried to laugh._

"_Er, nothing. It's , er, nothing. I was mistaken." he put the letter opened back on the tray._

"_My dear," The Lady said, putting the envelopes and pips down on the table, and taking her husband's face in her hands. "You've gone quite pale."_

_Eustace rose quickly to his feet, glaring at her as her hands fell._

"_It's nothing."_

"Did you keep the envelope?" Holmes wondered.

"My husband destroyed it...but it was blank. No name or address on any kind."

"Tell me," Holmes started. "Has Sir Eustace spend time in America?"

"No."

"Not even before your marriage?"

"Well, not to my knowledge."

"Hmm. Pray continue with your fascinating narrative."

"Well, that incident took place Monday morning. It was two days later, on the Wednesday, that my husband first saw her."

"Who?" Watson asked.

_Lady Carmichael woke up, looking across the bed for her husband, but he was gone. She got out of the bed, and looked around the room, finding him standing by the window, frozen, staring at the yard._

"_Eustace?" She asked, but he didn't say anything. He only whimpered. She walked towards him, grabbing his arms, which startled him. He spun around, and grabbed her, sobbing._

"_She's come for me, Louisa. Oh, God help me, my sins have found me out."_

"_Who's come for you? Eustace you're frightening me."_

_He shoved her to the window. "Look! Look! Don't you see her?" He asked, but she saw no one, only the empty lawn._

"_No, no, I don't see anyone."_

_Eustace looked out of the window again, and smiled. "Gone."_

_His smile faded, and he broke down in tears once more, going down on his knees. Louisa, frightened and confused, bent down, and cradled him._

"_You keep so many secrets from me. Is this another? Who have you seen?"_

_She wondered if it could have been a nightmare, but she thought he would have realized that he was only dreaming by then._

_He raised his head to look at her._

"_It was her. It was the Bride."_

"And you saw nothing?" Holmes asked. Watson glanced at Holmes, and back at the Lady.

"Nothing." She confirmed.

"Did your husband describe…"

"Nothing until this morning."

_Lady Carmichael woke once again to find her husband's side of the bed empty. She looked around the room for him, expecting him to be beside the window from his recurring nightmare, but he was gone. _

_Eustace was wondering around the yard, in only his nightshirt ad slippers, with a dressing gown._

_Lady Carmichael called his name as she ran outside, trying to catch him, but he disappeared into the large hedge maze. _

_She ran to the mazy, stopping when something on the ground caught her eye. She leaned over and picked up a slipper, undoubtable Eustace's, and she called out his name again, walking forward._

_She turned several corners looking for him, and each time she called out his name, she never received an answer._

_She turned another corner, and ran forward, but something tripped her, and she fell to the ground. She looked at her hands as she rose to her knees, grazed from the fall._

"_Eustace, where are you?" She yelled out. She felt as if something, or someone, was behind her, but she didn't look._

"Do not forget me." _She heard someone sing, and she turned. "_Do not forget me…Remember the maid. The maid of the mill.."

_She turned around, turning another corner, and found her husband. His back was too her, and facing a dead end, but a woman stood there in a wedding dress, the veil over her face, and her hands folded in front of her._

_Lady Carmichael inched forward. "Who are you?" She asked, but received no answer. "I demand you speak, who are you?"_

_The Bride only tilted her head. Lady Carmichael reached out, taking her husband's arm, turning him to face her._

"_Eustace, speak to me." She demanded, taking both of his arms, and shaking him gently. "In the name of God." She shook him again,_

"_She;s...she's Emeilia Ricoletti." They turned to look at the Bride, who was drifting towards them, and it seemed as if she weren't moving her feet at all._

"_No. Not you. No!" _

_The Bride stopped in front of them, only a few feet away._

"_Please." Sir Eustace begged._

"_This night, Eustace Carmichael. You...will,,,die." The bride spoke. She began to lift her face, revealing the bottom part of her chin, before Eustace fainted, falling back into his wife's arms. When Lady Carmichael looked back up at the Bride, she had vanished._

"Holmes?" Watson asked. He was silent, his fingers steepled in front of his mouth.

"Hush, Watson." He said, then returned to thinking.

"But Emelia Ricoletti, the Bride!"  
"You know the name?" Lady Carmichael asked.

"You must forgive Watson. He has an enthusiasm for stating the obvious which borders on mania." He glared at Watson, who only glared back at him. "May I ask, how is your husband this morning?"

"He refuses to speak about the matter. Obviously I had urged him to leave the house."

"No, no! He must stay exactly where he is." Holmes exclaimed quickly.

"Well, you don't think he's in danger?"

"Oh no, somebody definitely wants to kill him, but that's good for us. You can't set a trap without bait." He smiled at her, but she didn't smile back.

"My husband is not bait, Mr. Holmes." She gasped.

"No, but he could be if we play our cards right."

Watson raised his eyebrows, and Holmes felt Elizabeth's glare from the other room. He turned and smiled at her, but she only shook her head at him.

"No listen; you must go home immediately. Doctor Watson and I will follow on the next train. There's not a moment to lose. Sir Eustace is to die tonight."

"Holmes!"

"...and we should...probably avoid that."

* * *

"He's taken the case, then?"

Elizabeth nodded. Mary smiled at her. "Good."

"I now rely on you two to keep an eye on things, but he must never suspect you of working for me. Are you clear on that?"

The women nodded simultaneously, and Mary spoke.

"You can rely on us, Mr. Holmes. They haven't suspected anything yet."

* * *

Holmes and Watson sat across from each other in the train car, Watson staring out of the window, while Holmes closed his eyes.

"You don't suppose…"

"I don't, and neither should you."

"You don't even know what I was going to say!" Watson argued.

"You were about to suggest there may be some supernatural agency involved in this matter, and I was about to laugh in your face."

"But the Bride! Holmes, Emelia Rocoletti, again. A dead woman walking the Earth!"

Holmes sighed, and opened his eyes. "You amaze me, Watson."

"I do?"

"Since when have you had any kind of imagination?"

"Perhaps since I convinced the public that an unprincipled drug addict is some kind of gentleman hero."

"Yes, now that you've come to mention it, that was quite impressive. You may, however, rest assured there are no ghosts in this world."

Watson nodded, going back to looking out of the window.

"Save those we make for ourselves." Holmes added so quietly Watson almost couldn't make out what he had said. He closed his eyes again, leaning back against the headrest.

"Sorry, what did you say? 'Ghosts we make for ourselves'? What do you mean?"

Holmes never answered, just kept his eyes shut and Watson gave up asking, knowing he would never find out.

* * *

_This is a bit of a shorter one, but I didn't want to keep you waiting any longer._

_I am sorry for the wait, this has been my Fall Break, and I intended to update at the beginning of the week, but I went on vacation to my dad's, and then we went camping with mom, so I didn't get much of a chance. But I'm back home, and back into routine, so more writing is definitely going to get done._

_And with Halloween coming up, I'm thinking of doing another halloween one-shot, like I did last year..._

_Reviews:_

_From: Ellis Jenkins_

(It's Red. I finally got myself an account! YEAH!) Anyway, this was good! I like how you basically re-wrote the scenes but slightly adjusted them to incorporate mentions of Elizabeth and Ophelia! I'm glad I chose to read this before updating my own fic!

_Congrats on your new account! And I'm glad you liked these chapters! I'm trying to find places to add my own scenes, but it is more difficult with this episode, I think to do that, but I have plans for the next chapter or so that I'm excited about._

_I would be interested in reading your fic, if you don't mind. It is amazing, without a doubt, and I wish you all the best of luck writing it. It isn't always easy, but I have loved writing, and it is rewarding!_

_From: galwidanatitud_

Love that scene with the big Mycroft. Fascinating! :D

_I love that scene too! It was very unexpected when I first watched it, but I loved it all the same!_

_Thank you for the review, dear! Happy to hear from you!_

Eruaphadriel X


	59. Chapter 59

H_EY!_

_Alright, serious note here for you guys...I have NO IDEA how I was going to work in the greenhouse scene, and change it, tweak it a little, that didn't make Holmes look like he was cheating, Watson look like he was suspecting Holmes of cheating, or Watson getting too nosey about Holmes and Elizabeth's...you-know-what life…_

_I stopped and restarted writing that part so many times, it's not even funny._

_Please bear with me there. It's rough, heck is so rough I'm cringing thinking about it, but I have thought about this scene for ages, and haven't come up with anything, so bear with me, please…_

_And thank you._

_If you can think of a better way to go about it, please let me know._

_Also, please, if you're on Wattpad, go and support my lovely friend Nataly (NatalyEKing on wattpad) she is putting a preview of her story on there, but she hasn't decided if she'll make it an e-book or not yet. More info down below, and a chance to get a free digital copy of the book should she decide to publish it._

_Now, onto your regularly scheduled program_

"Somnambulism." Sir Eustace answered when Holmes questioned him about The Bride. Sir Eustace stood near the fireplace while Holmes paced around the room, listening intently to everything Sir Eustace had to say.

"I beg your pardon?" Watson asked.

"I sleepwalk, that's all. It's a common enough condition. I thought you were a doctor. The whole thing was a bad dream."

"Including the contents of the envelope you received?" Holmes asked, knowing Sir Eustace was lying.

"Well, that's a grotesque joke."

"Well that's not the impression you gave your wife, sir." Watson responded, remembering the panicked look on Lady Carmichael's face while she was giving them her story.

"She's a hysteric, prone to fancies."

"No."

"I'm sorry? What did you say?"

Holmes stopped pacing to face Sir Eustace. "I said no, she's not a hysteric. She's a highly intelligent woman of rare perception."

"My wife sees terror in an orange pip." Sir Eustace argued.

"Your wife can see worlds where no-one else can see anything of value whatsoever."

"Can she really?" Air Eustace wondered. "And how do you 'deduce' that, Mr. Holmes."

"Because she is a lot like my wife, sir. And they married us. I assume they were capable of finding a reason."

The mention of Elizabeth brought to him fragments of a conversation he didn't remember with Elizabeth, and quick flashes of her, dressed in a nice dress, her coat on, ready to go out, staring at him in confusion as he spoke. He couldn't make out what he was saying, but he could make out '...records…' and her whispering '...alive…'

Then another memory of them, dancing to music in the sitting room

Sir Eustace charged towards Holmes, bringing him back to the present, but he stopped in his tracks as Holmes began to speak again.

'I'll do my best to save your life tonight, but first it would help if you would explain your connection to the Rocoletti case."

"Ricoletti?" Sir Eustace repeated.

"Yes, in detail, please." Holmes confirmed.

"I've never heard of her."

"Interesting." Holmes began. "I didn't mention she was a woman. We'll show ourselves out. I hope to see you again in the morning." Holmes turned to leave, followed by Watson.

"You will not!" Sir Eustace called after them.

"Then sadly I shall be solving your murder. Good day."

They walked into the foyer where their coats and hats were g. Holmes took a notebook from his pocket, and wrote something on a slip of paper.

"Well, you tried." Watson sighed as a footman approached them.

"Will you see that Lady Carmichael receives this?" Holmes handed the note to the footman. "Thank you. Good afternoon."

"Yes, sir." The footman answered and Holmes and Watson walked on.

"What was that?" watson wondered.

"Lady Carmichael will sleep alone tonight, on the pretence of a violent headache. All the doors and windows of the house will be locked." They reached their coats and hats, and took them from the rack.

"Ah, you think the spectre…" Holmes glared at him. "...er, the Bride will attempt to lure Sir Eustace outside again?" He put on his scarf and coat.

"Certainly. Why else the portentous threat? 'This night you will die.'."

"Well, he won't follow her, surely."

"It's difficult to say what he'll do." Holmes admitted. "Guilt is eating away at his soul." He added, pulling his gloves from his pocket and slipping them onto his hands.

"Guilt? About what?"

"Something in his past. The orange pips were a reminder."

"Not a joke?" Watson asked, putting on his own gloves.

"Not at all. Orange pips are a traditional warning of avenging death, originating in America. Sir Eustace knows this only too well, just as he knows why he is to be punished."

They took their hats and walked out onto the porch.

"Something to do with Emelia Rocoletti." Watson stated, putting his hat on once they were outside.

"I presume. We all have a past, Watson."

"Hmm." Came watson's response.

"Ghosts- they are the shadows that define our every sunny day. Sir Eustace knows he's a marked man."

Watson glanced back at the house.

"There's something more than murder he fears. He believed he is to be dragged to Hell by the risen corpse of the late Mrs. Ricoletti."

"That's a lot of nonsense, isn't it?"

"God, yes. Did you bring your revolver?"

"What good would that be against a ghost?"

"Exactly. Did you bring it?"

"Yesh, of course."

"Then come, Watson, come." He put his deerstalker on. "The game is afoot."

* * *

Watson grunted as he rose up slightly.

"Get down , Watson, for heaven's sake!" Holmes whispered.

"Sorry. Cramp." he grumbled, rubbing his leg. "Is the, er, lamp still burning?"

"Yes." Holmes answered. After he answered, the lamp went out. "There goes Sir Eustace." He looked across to the other window, and the lamp went out there as well. "And Lady Carmichael. The house sleeps."

Watson shook his head. "Mmm, good God, this is the longest night of my life." He complained.

"Have patience, Watson."

Watson reached into his pocket, taking out his pocket watch, looking at the time.

"Only midnight." He grumbled some more. "You know it's rare for us to sit together like this."

"I should hope so." Holmes responded. "It's murder on the knees." He smiled, and Watson smiled back.

"Hmm. Two old friends, just chatting, chewing the fat…" He looked at Holmes. "...man to man."

"She's a remarkable woman." Watson continued.

"Who?" Holmes asked.

"Lady Carmichael."

Holmes could hear something in Watson's voice-anger? Confusion?- but he wasn't sure what it was.

"The fair sex is your department, Watson. I'll take your word for it."

"No, you liked her. A 'woman of rare perception'."

Holmes could pinpoint the emotion now. He recalled the times Elizabeth spoke of Irene Adler. She would sort of aggravatedly mock her, so that they would know she was unhappy with Miss Adler being the topic of conversation. How she would insinuate, sometimes, that Holmes prefered Miss. Adler over Elizabeth, which was never the case, but that's how she saw it.

"And admirably high arches. I noticed them as soon as she stepped into the room." Holmes added against his better judgement. It would just invite Watson to continue the conversation and make his assumptions a bit more sound.

"What's the matter with you this evening? If you're trying to say something, then come out with it, don't beat around the bush. It's getting annoying." Holmes checked his own watch, ready for the night to be over already.

"That watch you're wearing: there's a photograph inside it. I glimpsed at it once…"

"You didn't glimpse at it. You waited 'til I had fallen asleep and looked at it." Holmes accused, and Watson didn't deny it. He wanted to know why Holmes stared at his watch for a few extra seconds when everyone knew he would have already known the time a split second after he opened the watch.

"It's a photograph of my sister, I believe.A very nice photograph."

"I apologise, is it wrong of me to have a photograph of my wife in the watch? Why are you talking like this?"

Watson shook his head at his friend.

"I'm just making conversation." He responded.

"Well don't." Holmes sighed back, annoyed at his friend's topic of conversation.

"I don't wish to talk about emotions, Watson."

"Alright." Watson thought for a moment, not wanting the night to be completely silent. "But, as you friend-"

"I've never been so impatient to be attacked by a murderous ghost." Holmes muttered under his breath.

"-as someone who worries about you- what made you like this?"

"Oh, Watson," Holmes began. "Nothing made me. I made me."

Holmes head claws faintly as he spoke, and after he made his statement, he heard a dog whimpering. He had checked several times; they didn't own a dog, nor were there any reported stray dogs in the area.

"Readbeard?" He asked quietly, knowing that whimper all too well. It sounded as if he were in pain, and Holmes felt a pull on his heart, but Watson's exclamation disturbed the moment, and caused Holmes to look back to him as Watson stared at the big house.

"Good God!"

Holmes followed his gaze and saw a luminescent figure- the Bride-floating above the ground.

"What are we to do?" Watson asked as the Bride lifted her right hand.

"Why don't' we have a chat."

_So I get this was a really short chapter, and I'm so sorry you waited so long for this little bit, but I wanted to get something up._

_I wanted to talk to you guys about Nataly's book for just a sec if that's cool :)_

_She is trying her hand at historical fiction, and asked if I would give a shout out to you guys about it, and see if you're interested. (NatalyEKing on wattpad)_

_She did explain that it is possible the update on wattpad is only going to be a preview, and that she may decide to make it an ebook, and sell it. If that is the case, she has offered to give it to you for free if you contact her via e-mail (or maybe she'll have a way to contact her when ordering it...a promo code or something?), and you get a free copy, just 'cause you're awesome, and if you want to donate instead, you are more than welcome._

_Both of us have been writing for ages, and we write together occasionally, but I have read the plot for this book, and I think it's going to be good! I'm excited, and she's worked so hard!_

_Reviews:_

_From: Ellis Jenkins_

_Thanks! I wouldn't mind at all! In fact, I'd be honored! I get what you mean about adding scenes into episodes. I've been trying to do that myself, and have semi-abandoned it! (I'll probably go back to it eventually!) You do very well at doing it! I'm looking forward to your next chapter!_

_Hello again! I read some of your stories, and they are so good! I especially loved 'A Birthday Letter''. It was short, but I adored it! I don't see many Mycroft fanfictions anywhere, or any fanfictions where they explain the Holme's ties to Vernet! It was amazing!_

_And adding scenes is very difficult, and something you get better at with practice, and patients. I watched the episodes I don't know how many times trying to find places where I could add an original scenes, and stayed awake many nights trying to find places as well. It's something that is a bit time consuming (depending on the episode), but can be a lot of fun (in my opinion, anyway)._

_Good luck with the writing, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter (even though it was extremely short...sorry)_

_From:galwidanatitud_

_Sherlock should really control himself when talking about a potential murder. bit not good, Holmes ;)_

_I totally agree with you, but I think that's what made the scene so comical! It is a bit not good, though. I think I would have slapped him silly if it were me._

_From:LadyRedStar (Guest)_

_LadyRedStar: Seeing your new update brings me such joy! I hate how sexist Watson is, even to his own sister. He really shouldn't have a say in what she does anyway. I'm excited to see more!_

_Oh, I hate it to, but sadly that's how women were treated in those times...It's a little better today, we still have a bit further to go, but that's a totally different conversation, and it will be an essay before i'm finished, lol._

_I'm so glad you love it, and I hope you enjoy this update as well!_

_From:hottieanimegurl_

_I LOVE IT! I absolutely love your story!_

_Thank you! I'm so happy that you do!_

_From221B (guest)_

_221B:So amazing. I love this story so much_

_Thank you, darling, I'm glad you do!_

_Thank all the reviews. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favorited this story so far! I really appreciate it!_

_~EruaphadrielXx_


	60. Chapter 60

_Hello everyone. I'm sorry that the last chapter was so short. I promise this one will be a lot longer._

_:)_

Holmes raced out of the greenhouse and towards the ghostly figure of the bride, Watson trailing behind him as they ran towards the house.

"Mrs. Rocolettie, I believe." Holmes yelled as he hurried towards her, and stopped a few yards away from the figure. The Bride lowered her hand, turning towards them."Pleasant night for the time of year, is it not?" Holmes asked. Watson took Holmes' arm in his, squeezing it tightly as he could.

"It cannot be true, Holmes. It cannot!" Watson could not believe what he was seeing. He was never one to truly believe in superstitions and the supernatural, at least until recently, but he couldn't deny the evidence in front of him. Part of him chuckled, as Holmes was proved wrong, something that was rare, and something Watson almost never got to do. In hindsight, he should have taken a bet, but none of that had been on his mind at the moment that his adrenaline was so he, he could barely feel his legs holding him up.

"No, it can't." Holmes answered. The figure faded, yet as soon as she vanished, a crash was heard-a window breaking- and a screamed came from inside the house, causing Watson's heart to jump in his chest, and he suddenly found himself running alongside Holmes towards the front door.

"Is it locked?" Watson asked as Holmes tried to open it.

"As per instructions." Holmes muttered back, leaving the porch.

"That was a window breaking, wasn't it?" Watson wondered as Holmes approached a side window.

"There is only one broken window we need concern ourselves with." Holmes struck the glass with his elbow, breaking the window, breaking the rest of it out with a gloved hand.

"Stay in here, Watson." Holmes instructed when the climbed inside, and Watson's feet were back on the ground.

"What? No!" He refused.

"All the doors and windows to the house are locked. This is their only way out. I need you here." Before Watson could argue with him, Holmes picked a lantern, and walked away, going deeper into the house.

"But the sound was so close. It had to be from the side of the house." Watson argued anyway, causing Holmes to turn, exasperated.

"Stay here." He repeated the order, and ran into the house, disappearing from sight and earshot.

Watson stared back at the window, anxiously, ideas and scenarios running through his mind. What would the do if that specter were to walk towards the window, to come inside, or go out. Or, probably even more dangerous, a person with intentions to kill Sir Eustace, and anyone who stood in the way of their goal, planned to crawl in or out of the window he was guarding. He had his revolver and wonderful reflexes, but that was years ago. He wondered if he would panic, or be able to whip the revolver from his coat pocket at a moment's notice.

He only waited to find out.

Holmes ran up the stairs as a woman let out a shriek-Lady Carmichael.

He reached the landing, and looked around, shining the lantern on the carpet, looking for any sign of an intruder, but saw nothing. He ran through a hallway to find Lady Carmichael standing in her nightdress, a pool of blood at her feet, and horror on her face. Two maids rushed towards her, taking her arms as her eyes caught Holmes'.

"You promised to keep him safe. You promised!" She cried. "You…" She began to sob, and Holmes could do nothing but stare at her, knowing there was no way he could console her.

Holmes followed the drops of blood littering the length of the hallway.

The floor creaked, starling Watson and he fiddled with the revolver in his hand, holding it up and cocking it, pointing it to the ceiling. The floor creaked again, and Watson lowered the gun.

"You're human, I know that. You must be."

He put the revolver on the table beside him, and took out a match to illuminate the room with a candle.

"Little use, us standing here in the dark." He stuck the match, and lit the candle.

"After all, this is the nineteenth century."

Holmes run up another flight of stairs, still following the trail of blood.

He found Eustace lying on his side, something protruding from his chest. Holmes bent over him, turning him over, and noticed the shape in his chest was a dagger, beautifully decorated.

A woman screamed behind him, and he knew who it was immediately.

Watson felt a breeze, which blew out the candle he was holding on to so tightly. His eyes went wide, and his breathing heavy as he looked around, and put down his revolver again, and trying to relight the candle. He struck the match, lit the candle, and picked his weapon up again. He squinted his eyes at the darkness ahead of him, and felt something, like someone breathing down his neck, but he ignored it, thinking it was just his nerves making him feel things that weren't there, and that he wasn't going to be scared. Whoever it was was already in the house, so the couldn't come behind him, there was no way they could get out other than that window that they had broken.

Still, though he knew that nothing was behind it, and that it was just his mind playing tricks, he heard a whisper, harsh and familiar, in his ear.

"_Do not forget me._" it sang in a harsh whisper.

Watson, knowing now this could not be the work of an active imagination, turned around, coming face to face with The Bride, which he feared to a certain degree.

The Bride lifter her arms in the air, fingers like claws, bloodstained, as she hissed and screamed at him. He dropped the candle, running down the hallway in search of his friend who had left him there.

They met on the stairs, bumping into each other as Watson panted, "She's there! She's down there!"

"Don't tell me you abandoned your post."  
"What? Holmes, she's there!" he pointed with his revolver towards the hallway he was posted at. "I saw her!"

Holmes ran to the corridor, reaching the broken window, and Watson followed behind, only to find the corridor empty.

"Empty, thanks to you! Our bird has flown."

"No! No, Holmes, it wasn't what you think. I saw her-the ghost."

"THERE ARE NO GHOSTS!" Holmes yelled, furiously, sick of the idea that a ghost was murdering all of these people. He glared at Watson.

"What happened? Where's Sir Eustace?

"Dead."

* * *

A photographer took a photo of the body lying on the ground as Lestrade, Watson, and Holmes stood at the stairs, watching him work.

"You really mustn't blame yourself, you know."

Holmes took a deep breath. Watson had told him that a hundred times by now, and Lady Carmichael had a different tale to tell. This was all his fault in her eyes.

"No, you're quite right." he agreed.

"I'm glad you're seeing sense." Watson commented.

"Watson is equally culpable. Between us, we've managed to botch this whole case. I gave an undertaking to protect that man; now he's lying there with a dagger in his breast."

Watson squatted next to the body. "In fact, you gave an undertaking to investigate his murder."

"In the confident expectation I would not have to." Holmes answered.

"Anything you can tell us, Doctor?" Lestrade wondered.

"Well, he's been stabbed with considerable force."

"It's a man, then." Lestrade assumed.

"Possibly." Watson agreed.

"A very keen blade, so it could conceivable have been a woman."

"In theory," Watson stood, stalking back to the other two. ",yes, but we know who it was. I saw her."

"Watson." Holmes warned.

"I saw the ghost with my own eyes." He argued.

"You saw nothing." Holmes answered, angrily. "You saw what you were supposed to see."

"You said yourself; I have no imagination."

"Then used your brain, such as it is, to eliminate the impossible-which in this case in the ghost- and observe what remains-which in this case is a solution so blindingly obvious, even Lestrade could work it out."

"Thank you." Lestrade nodded.

"Forget spectres from the otherworld. There is only one suspect with motive and opportunity. They might as well have left a note."

"They did leave a note." Lestrade informed him.

"And then there's the matter of the broken window."

"What other broken window?" Lestrade asked, not remembering seeing another window shattered when they walked through the house, checking for the killer, and any sign of a forced entry, other than the window Holmes broke.

"Precisely. There isn't one. The only broken window in this establishment is the one that Watson and I entered through, yet prior to that we distinctly heard the sound of-What did you just say?"

"Sorry?" Lestrade asked.

"About a note. What did you just say?"  
"I said the murderer did leave a note."

"No they didn't." Holmes countered, remembering there not being a note anywhere near the body.

"There's a message tied to the dagger. You must have seen it!" Lestrade told him, nodding to the body.

"There's not message." Holmes argued, walking towards the body.

"Yes!"

"There was no message when I found the body."

Holmes stopped, looking at the body, and there it was, tied around the hilt of the dagger with shrink. He bent to pick it up, turning the slip of paper over, before placing it back on Sir Eustace, eyes wide, slowly standing back to full height.

"Holmes?" Watson asked, noticing something was wrong. "What is it?" Holmes began to back away from the body, and turned to the stairs, not saying a word.

Watson went to look at the note himself, turning the slip back over. The note was short, in large letters:

_MISS ME?_

Holmes walked down the stairs, staring ahead of him, in shock, and confused.

He found himself at the Diogenes Club, in The Stranger's Room, where his brother always sat. He was facing away from Mycroft, until he spoke.

"Do you?" Mycroft asked, and Holmes spun around to face him.

"Do I what?"

Mycroft lifted his large arm, showing Holmes the tag with MISS ME written on it.

"How did you get that?" Holmes asked, confused. "I left it at the crime scene."

"'Crime scene'?" Mycroft asked, folding his arms over his stomach. "Where do you pick up these extraordinary expressions? Do you miss him?  
"Moriarty is dead." Holmes stated simply.

"And yet."

Holmes turned from his brother again. "His body was never recovered."

"To be expected when one pushed a maths professor over a waterfall. Pure reason topples by sheer melodrama: your life in a nutshell."

Holmes turned back around. "'Where do you pick up these extraordinary expressions?'" He looked back at the wall, recognizing the painting as Turner's 'Falls of the Reichenbach'.

"Have you put on weight." Holmes changed the subject.

"You saw me only yesterday. Does that seem possible?"

"No." Holmes answered.

"Yet here I am increased. What does that tell the foremost criminal investigator in England."

"In England.

"You're in deep, Sherlock, deeper than you ever intended to be. Have you made a list?"

"Of what?"

"Everything. We will need a list."

Holmes took a breath, and felt into his coat pocket, retrieving a piece of paper he didn't remember putting in there, and seeing writing that he didn't remember scribbling, though it was his handwriting. He held it up for Mycroft to see.

"Good boy." Holmes complimented. Holmes paced to Mycroft, who help out a hand expecting the paper to fall right into it, but instead, Holmes lifted the paper as the cover brushed Mycroft's palm, keeping it from him.

"No. I haven't finished yet." Holmes admitted.

"Moriarty may beg to differ." Mycroft replied. Holmes sighed.

"He's trying to distract me, to derail me." He put his hands together, in the normal prayer position under his chin.

"Yes. He's the crack in the lens, the fly in the ointment...the virus in the data."

Holmes spun around once more, glaring at Mycroft.

"I have to finish this."

"It Moriarty has risen from the Reichenbach cauldron, he will seek you out."

"I'll be waiting." and with his answer, Holmes walked out, leaving mYcroft alone once again.

"Yes. I'm very much afraid you will."

* * *

"Two whole days he's been like that." Elizabeth whispered, cracking the door open enough so Lestrade could see into the sitting room, and see Holmes sitting on the floor in his dressing gown, eyes closed, completely still.

"Has he eaten?"

"No. Not a morsel."

Mrs. Hudson walked up behind them. She put a hand on Elizabeth's shoulder, knowing she was worried for him.

"Press are outside having a ruddy field day. There's still reporters outside." Lestrade said to Mrs. Hudson. They had a handful of guests today, and none were too keen on leaving them in peace.

"They've been there all the time. We can't get rid of them." Elizabeth added.

"I've been rushed off my feet making tea." She left the two there, going into the room, picking up some dishes left on the table, and a plate of uneaten food Holmes refused to touch.

"Why does she make them tea?"

Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. She just does. I'm not sure she thinks about it."

"He said there's only one suspect, and then he just walks out, and now he won't explain."

"Which is strange. That's the bit he loves."

"Said it was so simple I could solve it."

"I'm sure he was exaggerating." Elizabeth said. Lestrade glared at her, but she only smiled back jokingly.

"What is he doing, do you think?"

"He told me he was waiting."

"For what?"

"The devil." Mrs. Hudson answered in a harsh whisper, squeezing her way out of the sitting room. Lestrade turned to her, eyes wide.

"It wouldn't surprise me. We get all sorts around here."

"Well, wire me if there's any change." Lestrade said, putting a hand on Elizabeth's shoulder, and ruffling the tiny, thin curls on Ophelia's head. Elizabeth stared back through the crack in the door at Holmes.

"Yeah." She nodded, and Lestrade walked back down stairs.

Elizabeth tore her eyes away, shutting the door again, following Mrs. Hudson down.

* * *

Holmes sat in the same place after night had fallen, eyes still closed. He heard the floor creak and he turned, knowing it wasn't Elizabeth, or Mrs. hudson, or Watson immediately. These footsteps were different, yet familiar.

"Everything I have to say has already crossed your mind." The soft voice whispered.

"And perhaps my answer has crossed yours." He felt a vicious wave of deja vu, but ignored it.

"Like a bullet." Moriarty answered. Holmes opened his eyes and rose from his spot on the floor/ He stuck his hand in his pocket, facing Moriarty.

"It's a dangerous bit, to finger a loaded firearm in the pocket of one's dressing gown. Or are you just pleased to see me?" Moriarty smiles, tolling and popping the bones in his neck.

"You'll forgive me for taking precautions." Holmes didn't take his hand out of the pocket.

"I'd be offended if you didn't."

Moriarty admitted, patting his coat pocket, the reached into it, pulling out a small pistol. "Obviously I've returned the courtesy." He cocked the gun, and twirled it around his finger. "I like you rooms. They smell so...manly." He walked to Holmes, stopping inches away from him.

"I'm sure you've acquainted yourself with them before now."

"Well you are always away on your little adventures for The Strand. Little Ophelia with Mrs. Hudson, and Elizabeth gone with her friends...But tell me, does the illustrator travel with you? Do you have to pose..."

He lifted the pistol, touching the end to his chin, looking towards the ceiling, his hands steepled. "...during your deductions?"

He lowered his hands and made his way to the fireplace.

"I'm aware of all six occasions you have visited these apartments during my absence."

"I know you are."

He ran a finger over the mantle, watching the dust float in the air.

"By the way," Moriarty continued. "...you have a very comfortable bed. I didn't know you and Elizabeth shared." _*******_

How did he…._oh…_

Sherlock felt his fingers digging into the palm of his hand as he tried to control his anger. He knew it would do no good to kill him, but he was tempted.

The snake had snuck into his home while his wife was here, and he, of course, wasn't, walked into their room, and laid in their bed as Elizabeth was sleeping….

"Oh, no, no, I wasn't rude." Moriarty clarified, but it did nothing to suppress the urge to murder him. "But she was quite confused when she woke up and you weren't home after all."

He was shaking, he was _furious_, but he did it best not to let it show. That would do nothing to help. He would have proved to Moriarty that Elizabeth was indeed his weakness, and he knew Moriarty was just getting a rise out of him. He didn't doubt that he was telling the truth, he knew he was, which made his stomach turn, but he couldn't let Moriarty win, not this time.

He did make a mental note to purchase a new lock for the doors and windows…

"You…" Sherlock began in a low, harsh whisper, btu Moriarty interrupted him.

"Did you know that dust is largely composed of human skin?"

"Yes."

Moriarty licked the finger he had been drawing in the dust with.

"Doesn't taste the same, though. You want your skin fresh…" He waved his hand through the air "...just a little crispy."

"Won't you sit down?" Holmes offered, pointing to Watson's chair.

"That's all people are." Moriarty went on. "Dust, waiting to be distributed. And it gets everywhere. In every breath you take, dancing in every sunbeam, all used up people."

"Fascinating, I'm sure." Holmes said, cocking an eyebrow, uninterested. He pointed to the chair again. "Won't you sit…"

"People, people, people." Moriarty looked into the barrel of his gun. "Can't keep anything shiny." He blew into it. "D'you mind if I fire this, just to clean it out?"

He turned to gun so it was pointed at Holmes, who drew his own gun, quickly.

Slowly, both pointed the muzzles up, and Moriarty began swinging his pistol, lowering it to his side.

"Exactly. Let's stop playing. We don't need toys to kill each other. Where's the intimacy in that?

Holmes walked closer.

"Sit down." he demanded.

"Why? What do you want?"  
"You chose to come here." Holmes answered, still walking towards him, slowly.

"That's not true. You know that's not true."

Holmes stopped in front of him, a few feet away.

"What do you want, Sherlock?"

"The truth." Holmes answered simply. Moriarty nodded.

"Truth's boring." He admitted, walking past Holmes, who watched him. "You didn't expect me to turn up at the scene of the crime, did you? Poor old Sir Eustace. He got what was coming to him."

"But you couldn't have killed him." Holmes stated.

"Oh so what?" Moriarty turned around. "Does it matter? Stop it. Stop this. You don't care about Sir Eustace, or the Bride or any of it. There's only one thing in this whole business that you find interesting."

"I know what you're doing." Holmes whispered.

The room began to shake, as if there was an earthquake, but it only lasted a few seconds, before the room went still again as Holmes closed his eyes.

"The Bride put a gun in her mouth." Moriarty placed the gun on his chin. "She shot the back of her head off, and then she came back." He shrugged, moving the gun from his face. "Impossible." he remarked.

Holmes opened his eyes.

"But she did it, and you need to know why. How…?"

The room began shaking again, violently.

"...don't you? It's tearing you apart not knowing."

"You're trying to stop me." Holmes said intensely. "To distract me. Derail me."

The shaking stopped.

"Because doesn't this remind you of another case?"

Holmes shut his eyes again.

"Hasn't this all happened before? There's nothing new under the sun."

Holmes grimaced.

"What was it? What was that? What was that case? Huh? D'you remember?"

Holmes ran a hand over his face.

"It's on the tip of my tongue." Moriarty whispered. The room shook again, this time more violently than the last.

"It's on the tip of my tongue." he pointed to Holmes, who stood, unmoving, while the room shook around him. He opened his eyes again, as the room settled once more.

"It's on the tip…" he whispered, opening his mouth, and placing the muzzle of his gun to the tip of his tongue. "...of my tongue."

The room shook again as Holmes took a sharp breath, and the room went back to normal.

"For the sake of Mrs. Hudson's wallpaper, I must remind you that one false move with your finger and you will be dead."

"Ed ith the noo thethy." was what Holmes would understand.

"I'm sorry?" He blinked.

Moriarty took the gun out of his mouth to answer.

"Dead...is the new sexy." He whispered. The room shook again, more violently than the last few times, as Moriarty raised the gun to his mouth, aiming it, and pulling the trigger.

He fell back, the room settling when he landed on the ground and Holmes stared at him in shock.

Moriarty then shot back up, shaking himself down.

"Well, I'll tell you what, that rather blows the cobwebs away."

Holmes' eyes were wide, as he looked to the floor, and then back at Moriarty who had just shot himself, knowing there was no possible explanation as to why Moriarty was now very much alive.

"How can you be alive?" Holmes asked softly.

"How do I look, huh?" He turned slowly, revealing a large hole in the back of his head where he had shot himself.

"Huh?" He asked again, but Holmes still didn't answer. He turned and faced him again.

"You can be honest. Is it noticeable?" He moved his head around for Holmes to see from different angles, as if nothing about this was abnormal to him.

"You blew your own brains out, how can you survive?" Holmes asked again.

"Well, maybe I could backcomb." Moriarty ignored his questions.

"I saw you die." Holmes continued, narrowing his eyes. "Why aren't you dead?"

Moriarty acknowledged his questions this time, and walked towards him. "Because it's not the fall that kills you, Sherlock. Of all people, you should know that. It's not the fall. It's never the fall."

The tremor began again, glassware clanking together, and books hitting the floor. Moriarty spread out his arms.

"It's the _landing_."

Furniture began to fall, and the quaking threw Holmes backwards into his chair.

_*****It wasn't uncommon for couples in the 1800's to sleep in separate beds for several different reasons.**_

_Just thought I would clear that up a little bit :) I didn't know that until this year in my Literature class, when we read a story written in the 1800's, and it mentioned it._

_This has been one of my longest chapters as of recently. Go me! I needed something good this past week._

_This past week has been one heck of a rollercoaster (a bit of advice...if you're like me, and have never liked math, do NOT take pre-cal/calculus...I've cried myself to sleep at night (and have almost cried in the middle of class) because I do NOT understand, and no one is explaining it in a way I DO understand, and it's SO HARD...save yourselves, take another class that you might not enjoy, but will be a lot easier. I regret not switching out, and thinking I was tough enough to brave the horrors of calculus. This class, no lie, is going to throw me into a serious panic attack pretty soon, I can feel it.) And my mom doesn't believe in mental health days, and thinks I'm strong enough to get through it, and I felt like I was suffocating, and I just needed a day to breath… but that wasn't going to happen._

_But since I've had an awful week (or few weeks) I've completely poured everything into the chapter because I need an outlet, and writing is my outlet, so I don't know how this chapter is...I think it's great, but I'm also exhausted, and I make bad choices when I'm completely tuckered out..._

_I also tend to ramble...can you tell?_

_This weekend has helped me relax, though. It's a _Harry Potter _weekend (Which I have recently gotten really into! I found out my Hogwarts house; Ravenclaw! Pretty proud!) So I'm feeling a little better. Still ready to punch people, but not as ready as I was Friday of last week…_

_AND HAMILTON!  
If you haven't listened to _Hamilton _yet, I Highly recommend it, especially if you're a history buff like me. Lin Manuel Miranda is precious. The whole original cast is precious._

_And_ Hamilton _has helped me answer a lot of questions I didn't know the answer to in my History class. I've memorised almost all the lyrics._

_We can;t have a peaceful car ride._

_My sister doesn't know how great she's got it. She gets the one woman show...a front row seat, no charge._

_Starring me as everyone._

_It's quite the performance._

_Promise._

_UPDATES WILL BE SLOWER FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER!_

_I am going to the mountains with my grandparents on Wednesday, and won't be able to write. I'll bring a notebook with me, of course, but it will take a little while to get my notes onto my computer, so the update for the next chapter will be a bit slower. Sorry :(_

_I've already answered all of the reviews I got on the last chapter, I think. Thank you all again for telling me there was a problem with it when I first published it. I wouldn't have noticed. I should go back and double check (I WILL with this chapter), and I don't think that's the first time this has happened either, with fanfiction, so I'll be more careful when I publish._

_~Eruaphadriel Xx_


	61. Chapter 61

Hello everyone.

I want to preface this by saying I don't feel well. I went to the mountains, Gatlinburg to be exact, and came back with, what I think is a cold.

I thought it was blowing over so I started writing, but it turns out I'm not. I think I'm getting a little worse. I'm getting headaches, and I'm coughing a lot more, which is hurting my throat and causing me to lose part of my voice. If my voice isn't hoarse, my voice is lowered about three octaves and I sound like I've smoke all 17 years of my life..

So I am so, so, so sorry if this chapter isn't awesome...but I felt like writing all week, and I pushed through, and went with it, and this is what happened. I wanted to get something up quickly too, because I know the last few chapters have had a huge gap between them, and that makes me feel awful making you guys wait so long.

Thanks.

I grinned as the plane's wheels hit the ground with a screech and a slight jump, before rolling towards us, bringing Sherlock back. Mycroft creeped to my side, a frown on his face, but I could tell he was ecstatic to have his little brother back. He had only been gone five minutes, but I missed him.

The plane landed, and the door opened, stairs leading up to it.

I was the first to climb them, my smile getting wider with each step, Mycroft, Mary, and John following close behind.

He looked exhausted, pulling his head up from where it was resting on his hand.

"Well, somewhat shorter exile than we'd imagines, brother mine, although adequate, given your levels of OCD." Mycroft said as soon as he got in. I sat in the seat next to Sherlock, who I noticed was breathing heavily, adjusting Ophelia in my lap.

"I have to go back!" He exclaimed.

"What?" Mycroft asked.

"I was...I was nearly there! I nearly had it."  
"Had what? What are you talking about?" I asked with a small laugh, thinking he was joking.  
"Go where? You didn't get very far." John added.

"Ricoletti and his abominable wife! Don't you understand?"

"Not really."  
"No, of course we don't. You're not making any sense, Sherlock." Mary sat in the seats facing us, leaning forward as much as her stomach would allow.

"It was a case, a famous one from a hundred years ago, lodged in my hard drive. She seemed to be dead but then she came back."

"Like Moriarty?" I asked.

"She shot herself in the head, exactly like Moriarty."

"But you've only just been told. We've only just found out. He's on every TV screen in the country."

"Yes, so?" He unbuckled his seatbelt. "It's been five minutes since Mycroft called." He turned to Mycroft who was standing behind me. "What progress have you made? What have you been doing?"

"More to the point, what have you been doing?" John laughed.

"I've been in my Mind Palace, of course." He held out his arms towards Ophelia, who leaned towards him. He took her placing her on his lap, and she grabbed for his curls, like she always did.

"Of course."

"...running an experiment: how would I have solved the crime if I'd been there in 1895?" He glanced at us as he talked, and I caught his eyes; glassy and slightly red.

"Oh, Sherlock." Mycroft sighed behind me.

"I had all the details perfect."

Mycroft sunk into a seat behind me.

"I was there, all of it, everything! I was immersed."

"Of course you were." Mycroft added. I clapped my hands gently, enough to get Ophelia's attention, and held my hands out. She leaned, and I took her, rising from my seat and walking towards the door, where one of the flight attendants was standing outside, watching as they took Sherlock's luggage to one of the black vehicles parked a few yards away.

I caught Anthea's eye, and she walked quickly to the stairs. I knew what was going on, and wanted Ophelia to be as far away as possible, and Anthea was the only person Mycroft had brought along with him that I trusted.

She took her without me having to say anything, and I could hear arguing as I walked back into the plane.

"You really think anyone's believing you?" Mycroft asked/

"No, he can do this. I've seen it-the Mind Palace. It's like a whole world in his head." John explained.

"Yes, and I need to get back there."

I sat back down in my seat, both angry and disappointed at the man sitting next to me, practically begging us to leave him alone.

"The Mind Palace is a memory technique. I know what it can do; and I know what it most certainly cannot." Mycroft told John.

"Maybe there are one or two things I know that you don't." Sherlock argued.

"Oh, there are." Mycroft agreed, hinting around at the obvious-or almost obvious. I had enough of beating around the bush, and decided if Mycroft wasn't going to ask, I would.

"Did you make a list?" I asked quietly. I knew about the list after the first few months of living with John and Sherlock. John had been in Dublin, visiting family, a trip he tried to make at least once a year if he could. Sherlock had come home, high as a kite, and passed out on the couch. Panicked, I called Mycroft from Sherlock's phone, and put a cold rag on his forehead as he shivered. Mycroft dug in Sherlock's pocket as soon as he arrived pulling out a piece of paper and sighing, and explaining the list to me, before leaving with clear instructions for the next morning, and telling me to get some rest.

But I sat up the rest of the night, sitting on the other end of the couch, trying to stay awake with several cups of tea and coffee, keeping the windows open and letting some cold, crisp air into the room so I wouldn't be as tempted to doze off.

He barely moved all night, only shivering, and occasionally mumbling something incoherent.

I hated it. I absolutely hated every minute of sitting there watching him like that.

And I absolutely loathed this.

Sherlock looked back at me, chewing on his thumbnail. He suddenly looked past me to Mycroft.

"You've put on weight. That waistcoats clearly newer than the jacket…"

"Stop this." Mycroft said angrily. "Just stop it. Did you make a list?"

"Of what?"

"Of everything, Sherlock, everything you've taken."

"No, it's not that. He goes into a sort of trace. I've seen him do it." John kept going.

Sherlock grabbed a paper from his jacket pocket, holding it out, and dropping it on the floor in front of my feet. I grabbed it, unfolding it, but I didn't read it. Instead I just handed it to Mycroft, regretting unfolding it and seeing the long list that he had written.

John took it instead, looking at the list with wide eyes and furrowed brows.

"We have an agreement, my brother and I." Mycroft explained. "Ever since that day. Wherever I find him…" I looked at Sherlock who closed his eyes. Part of me felt bad for him, but another part of me didn't want to give him any pity. "...whatever back alley or doss house...there will always be a list."

John sat down. "He couldn't have taken all of this in the last five minutes." He commented.

"He was high before he got on the plane." Mycroft answered. I looked away from him.

"He didn't seem high." Mary said while typing on her phone.

"Nobody deceives like an addict."

"I'm not an addict." Sherlock corrected. "I'm a user. I alleviate boredom and occasionally heighten my thought process." He explained calmly, but John was anything but calm.

"For God's sake!" he exclaimed.

"Sherlock, this could kill you, you could die! You're not on your own anymore. What about Ophelia?"

"It hardly seems to matter since I was being exiled. Do you think I would have done that if I thought I would be anywhere near you or Ophelia?" He asked. "Controlled usage is not usually fatal, and abstinence is not immortality.

"What are you doing?" Mycroft turned to Mary, who was sitting across from us, typing away on her phone quickly.

"Emelia Ricoletti-I'm looking her up."

"Ah, I suppose we should." Mycroft agreed. "I have access to the top levels of the MI5 archive…"

"Yep, that's where I'm looking." mary smiled, not looking up. I smiled as well, surprised and oddly proud of my hacking sister-in-law.

"And what do you think of MI5 Security?" Mycroft asked awkwardly.. Mary looked up this time, brows raised, staring at Mycroft from across the aisle.

"I think it would be a good idea." Sher looked at the phone again. "Emelia Ricoletti. Unsolved…" she nodded to Sherlock, who had his head in his hands, eyes closed. "..like he said."

"Could you all just shut up for five minutes?" He lifted his head, opening his eyes. "I have to go back. I was nearly there before you stepped on and started yapping away."

"'Yapping'? Sorry did we interrupt your session?"

"John." I got his attention and shook my head, trying to tell him to calm down. I understood his anger- i was pissed beyond belief!-but Sherlock still had the drugs in his system, he was still high, there was no way of knowing what he could remember, if he remembered anything at all. There was no use in anger and lectures now. I would be sure to wait until he was sober to pick my bone with him.  
Sherlock, listen to me." Mycroft urged.

"No, it only encourages you."

"I'm not angry with you." He went on.

"Oh, that's a relief, I was really worried." his eyes, which he had closed, opened again. "No, hold on. I really wasn't."

"I was there for you before. I'll be there for you again. I'll always be there for you." Mycroft promised as he looked down at his feet. "This is my fault."

"This had nothing to do with you." Sherlock answered.

"A week in a prison cell, I should have realised." Mycroft ignored his comment once again, and continued.

"Realised what?" Sherlock wondered.

"That in your case, solitary confinement is locking you up with your worst enemy."

"Solitary confinement?" I asked. Mycroft didn't tell me any of that, only that they had to hold him in prison until today. I remembered college classes, talking about the effects of solitary confinement, and while Sherlock wasn't there long enough to have any of these effects on a dangerous level, I was extremely pissed.

"That was the deal I worked out. It was that, then exile, or life, Elizabeth."

"I'm fine." Sherlock assured me.  
"Of course you are. You are totally fine, aren't you?" I asked, sarcastically, earning a glare from Sherlock. "He's right." I agreed with Mycroft.

"Oh, for God's sake." Sherlock sighed, putting his head back in his hands.

He then lifted his head again, looking at John.

"What did you say?" He asked him.

"I didn't say anything." John shook his head.  
"No, you did, you said 'which is it today? Morphine or cocaine?'."

No one said anything. We all just stared back at him, confused. He looked back at us, brows furrowed.

"Holmes?" He slurred, lids drooping before his eyes closed, and he fell back into the seat. Mycroft jumped up, demanding an ambulance while I shook his arm, trying to wake him up.

* * *

"Morphine or cocaine? Which is it today?" Watson asked walking into the sitting room of 221B. Holmes was asleep on the floor, lying on his side.

"Answer me damn it!" watson slammed the sitting room door shut, causing holmes to jolt awake, head leaving the cushion Elizabeth had slid under his head when she found him lying on the floor asleep. She didn't want to wake him, knowing he needed sleep, and more than likely fell asleep on accident. If she woke him, he would be awake for good again. Yet, when she found him, it was too dark to make out the syringe lying near him with the case open.

"Moriarty was here." Holmes stated. Watson took off his gloves.

"Moriarty is dead." he reminded Holmes.

Holmes only waved his hand, rolling over onto his back. "I was on a jet."

"A what?"

Holmes raised his head. "You were there, and Mycroft." he propped himself up onto his elbow.

"You haven't left these rooms, Holmes. You...haven't...moved." Watson moved to the fireplace. "You have successfully scared and worried your wife. That's why I'm down here. She sent me a wire."

"Is she alright?"  
"You would know if you..you know." Watson pointed to the syringe on the floor. "Now, tell me. Morphine or cocaine?"

"Cocaine." Holmes got to his knees. "A seven percent solution." he took the syringe, putting it in the case before standing up. "Would you care to try it?"

"No, but I would quite like to find every once of the stuff in your possession and pour it out of the window."

"I should be inclined to stop you." Holmes answered, smirking.

"Then you would be reminded...quite forcefully...which of us is a soldier, and which of us a drug addict."

"You're not a soldier. You are a doctor."

"No, and Army doctor, which means I could break every bone in your body while naming them." He threatened.

"My dear Watson, you are allowing emotion to cloud your judgement."

"Never on a case. You promised me. Never on a case."

"No, I just said that in one of your stories." He smiled.

"Listen. I'm happy to play the fool for you. I will run along behind you, if that's what you need, but dear God above...you will hold yourself to a higher standard."

"Why?"

"Because people need you to." Watson answered, angrily.

"What people? Why? Because of your idiot stories?"

"Yes, because of my idiot stories. And you wife, your daughter."

Holmes looked at the fireplace.

"Do you even notice when they're gone."

"Of course I do!"

"Do you know where Elizabeth is right now."

"Not exactly, no."

"She's at my house. With Ophelia. They came to stay with us until you woke up. She was worried you wouldn't wake up at all. She's been absolutely sick worrying about you."

"Mr. Holmes!" Billy said, coming up the stairs, cutting of the comment Holmes had ready for Watson.

"Mr. Holmes! Telegram, Mr. Holmes!" Billy gave Holmes the telegram, and rushed back downstairs as Holmes opened it. He looked at Watson, surprised.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"It's Mary and Elizabeth."

Holmes began to walk out of the sitting room, towards the stairs.

"What about them?" Watson followed.

"It's entirely possible they're in danger." He took off his dressing gown, replacing it with his coat.

"Danger?"

"There's not a moment to lose." Holmes hung the dressing gown where the coat had been.

"Is this the cocaine talking?" watson questioned. "What danger could they be in? I'm sure she's just visiting with friends."

"Come one!" Holmes demanded, going down the stairs. Holmes grabbed the rail near the bottom to help keep his balance, grimacing all the way down the hall.

"What's happening?" Watson asked, grabbing his coat and putting it on. "Are you even in a fit state?"

"For them, of course. Never doubt that, watson. Never that."

Holmes began to breath heavily, doubling over with a groan.

"Holmes!" Watson exclaimed, helping him straighten up. Holmes waved him off of him.

"I'm fine!" he said, still breathing heavily, picking up a top hat.

Watson ripped it out of his hands. "Not that one." he said, tossing it down the hall, and picking up a deerstalker. "This one."

"Why?" Holmes asked.

"You're Sherlock Holmes. Wear the damn hat." he shoved it into Holmes hands, who put it on, hurrying into the busy street and hailing a cab.

Finished!

I'm sorry it's not...awesome...I'm really not feeling well. I tried my best, but I still feel like it wasn't my best.

Reviews!:

From: Piper Mashea

OH MY GOODNESS I had a Harry Potter marathon this weekend too! AND my house is Ravenclaw!

No way! That's awesome!

I just recently got into Harry Potter, and I love it! I've seen most of the movies, but I'm on the second book now, which is really good. I'm enjoying it a lot more than I thought ti would!

From: Ellis Jenkins

Thanks for reading my fanfictions! I'm glad you liked them! I somehow missed the last chapter! (Don't know how!) Both of your latest one are brilliant! I like how you changed the photo of Adler into one of Elizabeth. I was wondering how you'd do that. Altogether, as brilliant as always!

No problem at all! I really enjoyed them! Please, keep writing, you have a talent!

Thank you so much! I was really worried about the greenhouse scene, but that's one of the things I wasn't unsure about was changing the picture. It made more sense for him to have a lovely picture of his wife than of the woman she despised… I wrote and rewrote that part time and time again, but that was the one change I was actually happy with.

I'm so glad you enjoyed them! Hopefully you enjoyed this one too!

From:galwidanatitud

I think it's quite obvious that Ophelia and Elizabeth are, and will always be Sherlock's biggest weakness. but they are also his greatest source of strength.

Very well said! I agree with you completely!

From: Aubrey Cortez

(chapter 57)

Hey, it's me, not dead. I'm soooooo so so so so so so sorry it's taken me this long to start reading again! I just lost motivation to do anything literary! But tonight I'm catching up on all the FanFiction's I've neglected and I'm writing as much as I can.

This chapter was pretty good. Having already seen the Abominable Bride I feel so in the know about all the things that Sherlock is pondering. That rarely happens.

(Chapter 59)

The greenhouse scene was fantabulous! Don't worry about it, seriously, you did very well

Hello! It's so nice to hear for you again! I've gotten into those moods where I don't want to do anything literary, so I COMPLETELY understand. And I can't wait until season 4, where I DON'T know what he's pondering as I watch it...it's been awhile since that's happened...one

year, in fact.

I am So, so, so, so, SO happy you liked the greenhouse scene! I was SO stressed out about it, I didn't know how I did, I just kind of went with whatever happened, but that didn't work out, and I had to change so many things…

I usually go back and read parts that trip me up like that (obviously on a much smaller scale, This was the first big one that made me questions my sanity and writing ability), just to see how I did, because, in a way, it seems a little different outside of google docs, and when it's actually published, but I haven't read that part. I might now, but I haven't yet.

I showed my sister this comment because I was so excited you thought I did well! It was a big weight off of my shoulders, and made me feel SO much better. Thank you!

From:i-am-sherlocked-for-life-221B

OH MY GOD YOU STOPPED AT THE BEST PART! I'm so excited to see what happens next! I love how you have incorporated the Abominable Bride. I think it is working out very well! Can't wait for the next update!

I'm Sorry! A bit of a cliffhanger for you! I'm glad you're loving it, hopefully this chapter is alright, and hopefully it will get easier. I was a bit worried about having to transition between 1800's and modern day, so I'm glad you think it's working well! Thank you so much for the comment! It makes my day!

From: A.J. Parker94

When I read the part about how Moriarty had been sneaking into the flat while Elizabeth was there...and actually got in the bed while Elizabeth was sleeping, I was disgusted. Then I was angry. What a freaking CREEP!

Man, this is getting interesting! You're writing this episode out while including Elizabeth and Ophelia nicely, especially considering how I think that this is a difficult episode to write out, what with the time-lapses and switching of time periods. God knows how I'm going to do when I get to this point in my fic. *shudders*

And oh, honey, I feel so sorry for you taking Calculus. I took it in high school and it sucked so bad! Now I'm taking college Algebra, and it's not any better. After working for three hours on homework, I drag myself to the shower, muttering under my breath, "Wash off the shame...wash off the shame."

I've only recently heard about Hamilton- all good things about it. I'm not entirely sure what it is, though (only that it is a musical), but I would very much like to see it some day.

Part of me is a little satisfied that I got a bit of a rise out of you, and another part of me feels absolutely horrible that I did that...sorry...I just thought it would add a little bit of something to the scene.

I thought it would be incredibly difficult having to switch between time periods, but it's not as awful as I thought. It takes a while to come up with something, but you get the hang of it. If you ever need any help or advice, please don't hesitate to ask. I would be more than happy to help in any way I can.

I'm dreading college Algebra. If it's any worse than Cal, I know I won't do well. I have Peer Tutoring the class before Cal, but the teacher I'm helping lets me do my homework. I worked for a whole hour on the work we had been going over that week, and then I got the test back-a 66 out of 100...so close to failing… a lot of it was silly mistakes I could have avoided, but the whole time I was taking the test, I was just praying what I was writing down was right, and if not, I was hoping I would get partial credit.

Now I have to teach a lesson… in that class….over a subject I was absent for… I'm not enthused.

Hamilton has quickly become one of my favorite musicals. I kept hearing about it-all good things, like you said, and looked up things about it, and thought 'okay, someone put the founding fathers...with...is that...RAP music…? Okay, yeah, no thanks…"

I love musicals, but I can be kind of..picky? Like I have certain musicals I love, and I don't venture far from them...

But I finally caved, and looked it up. The one day I sat down to watch it was the one day it was on YouTube (bootlegged, sadly, but I got to see it…), and I was two minutes in and in love. It really is interesting, and, being a history buff, really awesome to learn about historical events and Alexander Hamilton, a historical figure no one really talked about in a different way.

And it's helped me on many-a history questions.

Now, if only Lin-Manuel Miranda made a musical about Calculus..

I'd as that class with flying colors..

(Sorry this was so long...I didn't intend for it to be, it just sort of...happened...whoops!)Thank you for the review!

EruaphadrielXx


	62. Chapter 62

Watson had found a cab in no time, and they sat silently as it raced down the road. Holmes had given the driver the address while Watson couldn't hear, and now sat with his head in his hand.

"So, tell me. Where are they?" Watson asked, but Holmes didn't answer. "You must tell me. What's going on?"

"Oh, good old Watson!" Holmes exclaimed, picking up his head. "How would we fill the time if you didn't ask questions?"

"Sherlock, tell me where my bloody wife and sister are, you pompous prick, or I'll punch your lights out!" Holmes looked at Watson, noticing the slight change in his voice. He was wearing peculiar clothing, his hideous mustache gone and his hair cut differently. Holmes blinked, and Watson was back to normal

."Holmes! Where is she?"

"A desanctified church. They think they've found the solution, and for no better reason than that, they've put themselves in the path of considerable danger." Holmes looked away with a smile. "What an excellent choice of wife."  
"Your wife, or mine?" Watson asked, wondering who he was praising.

"Hmm." Holmes only hummed, the smile still on his face. Watson took that to mean he was praising Elizabeth.

* * *

They ran into the church in the middle of nowhere, jumping through the cloisters, when something jumped out in front of them.

"What the devil!" watson exclaimed at the sight of Mary jumping from a pillar and pointing towards a building.

"I've found them." She greeted. They stayed quiet, listening, and heard faint chanting. Mary walked slowly towards the sound.

"What is all this, Mary?" Watson asked. They walked down a few steps where two braziers were lit.

"This is the heart of it all, John. The heart of the conspiracy." Mary answered, walking forward, moving further into the church. The chanting became louder and Watson could make it out as Latin, and it sounded like female voices.

"Where's Elizabeth?"

"She's fine."

Holmes took Mary's elbow gently, turning her around.

"Where is she?"

"I told you, she's fine. She's doing some more investigating."

Mary beckoned them to keep following them and they did. They found large windows within the church looking down on another floor of the church. Holmes joined Mary at another window, while Watson stayed at the second, watching intently.

"Great God, what is this place?" He looked at Mary, tearing his eyes away from the figures below him wearing dark blue, almost purple, robes with pointed hats, hiding their faces. "And what the devil are you doing here?"

"I've been making enquires." Mary whispered. "Mr. Holmes asked me."

Watson looked at Holmes. "Holmes, how could you?!" He asked angrily.

"No, not him." Mary corrected. "The clever one. Elizabeth and I both had been working for him. It seemed obvious to me that this business could not be managed alone. Our theory is that Mrs. Ricolette had help-help from her friends."

"Bravo." Holmes complimented. "'The clever one.'?"

"Oh." was all Mary said in response.

"I thought I was losing you." Watson spoke up. "I thought perhaps we were neglecting each other."

"Well, you're the one who moved out." Holmes answered.

"I was talking to Mary." Watson corrected. "You're working with Mycroft?"

"He likes keeping an eyes on his mad sibling. Elizabeth wouldn't do that, though, she was only interested on the case."

"Hmm." Holmes hummed again, and Watson say the corners of his lips turn up slightly in a smile.

"And he had a spy to hand. Has it ever occurred to you that your wife is excessively skilled for a nurse?" Holmes glared across to Watson.

"Of course it hasn't. Because he knows what a nurse is capable of." Mary smirked. "When did it occur to you?"

"Only now, I'm afraid." Holmes admitted.

"Must be difficult being the slow little brother." Mary smiled.

"Time I sped up. Enough chatter. Let's concentrate." Holmes said.

"Yes, all right. What's all this about? What do they want to accomplish?" Mary asked to herself.

"Why don't we go and find out." Holmes hurried towards the crowd, Watson and Mary following behind him.

Holmes found the doorway they went through, and looked to his side, finding a gong with a mallet. He picked it up, hitting it against the gong causing the chanting to stop.

"Sorry. I could never resist a gong. Or a touch of the dramatic."

"Never have guessed." Mary said behind him.

"Though it seems you share my enthusiasm in that regard." Holmes stepped forward, stopping when he was in the middle of the crowd.

"Excellent." Holmes grinned. "Superlative theatre. I applaud the spectacle." He backed towards the doorway, looking around the crowd, wondering if Elizabeth was anywhere, but he couldn't find her. He assumed she had stayed behind in a room somewhere doing her investigating. Maybe not how he would have done it, but he hoped she was getting somewhere. He was going to beat her to the answered, he knew, but she was trying.

"Emelia Rocoletti shot herself, then apparently returned from the grave and killed her husband. So, how was it done? Let's take the events in order. Mrs Ricoletti gets everyone's attention in very efficient places one of the revolvers in her mouth while actually firing the other into the accomplice sprays the curtains with blood and thus her apparent suicide is witnessed by the frightened crowd below.A substitute corpse bearing a strong resemblance to Mrs Ricoletti takes her place and is later transported to the morgue. A grubby little suicide of little interest to Scotland the real Mrs Ricoletti slips comes the _really_ clever part. Mrs Ricoletti persuaded a cab driver – someone who knew her – to intercept her husband outside his favourite opium den. The perfect stage for a perfect drama.A perfect positive identification. The late Mrs Ricoletti has returned from the grave and with a little skilled make-up and you have nothing less than the wrath of a vengeful was only one thing left to do." He stopped talking, knowing they all knew what he meant- her real suicide. "All that remained was to substitute the real Mrs Ricoletti for the corpse in the time, should anyone attempt to identify her it would be positively, absolutely her."

"But why would she do that-die to prove a point?" Mary asked from behind him.

"Every cause has martyrs; every war has suicide missions-and make no mistake, this is war. One half of the human race at war with the other." He looked at the robed figures on either side of him. "The invisible army hovering at our elbow, attending to our homes, raising our children, ignored, patronised, disregarded, not allowed so much as a vote."

The robed figured removed their hoods in unison, revealing a crowd on women.

"...but an army nonetheless, ready to rise up in the best of causes, to put right an injustice as old as humanity itself. So, you see, Watson, Mycroft was right. This is a war we must lose." He turned from Watson, ready to go on.

"She was dying." Watson said.

"Who was?"

"Emelia Ricoletti. There were clear signs of consumption. I doubt she was long for this world."

"So she decided to make her death count. She was already familiar with the secret societies of America and was able to draw on their methods of fear and intimidation to publicly-very publicly-confront Sir Eustace Carmichael with the sins of his past."

"He knew her out in the states." A voice said behind him. He turned around to find a woman standing out of the crowd. "Promised her everything." The face was familiar to Holmes, but he couldn't place it until she moved a little into the light from the candles and recognised Hooper in a robe, the same as the other women, and without a mustache and short hair. "...marriage, position-and then he had his way with her and threw her over, left her abandoned and penniless.

"Hopper." Holmes recognised, her voice much higher than he was used to, and her face seeming more feminine than it did with the mustache. She grinned as a series of dreams, memories perhaps of another time flashed before his eyes of Hooper-her slapping him in the face at a hospital, then it flashed back to his time, where she stood in front of him dressed as a man in the morgue.

"Holmes." She answered.

"For the record, Holmes," Watson began behind him. "She didn't have me fooled."

Holmes turned and glared at him while Watson grinned, satisfied. As Holmes turned around again, Watson scanned the crowd, seeing a familiar face poke out from the line on women and wave at him.

"_Why do you never mention me, sir?"_ The maid's voice echoed in his head as she waved at him.

"Emelia thought that she'd found happiness with Ricoletti, but he was a brute too." Janine stepped out of the crowd a few steps. Memories flashed in his mind of her as well. "Emelia Ricoletti was out friend. You have no idea how that bastard treated her.

"But...the Bride, Holmes. We saw her." Watson argued, confused. Holmes turned back to him.

"Yes, Watson, we did. But the sound of breaking glass? Not a window. Just an old theatrical trick. It's called Pepper's Ghost." He explained. "A simple reflection, in glass, of a living breathing person. Their only mistake was breaking the glass when they removed it. Look around you. Once the Bride had risen, anyone could be her. This room is full of Brides."

Holmes walked towards the back of the crowd of women, stopping in front of them, staring at one woman in particular.

"Including my own." He let one side of his mouth rise in a small smile. "I thought Mary said you were working."  
"I am." Elizabeth responded.

He grinned at her as she looked down, fiddling with the hood she held in her hands, a small smile playing on her lips. Holmes reached out, putting a finger under her chin, forcing her to keep her head up. When she met his eyes he winked, and began walking down the crypt again, speaking loudly for everyone to hear.

"The avenging ghost-a legend to strike terror into the heart of any man with malicious intent; a spectre to stalk those unpunished brutes whose reckoning is long overdue. A league of furies awakened. The women I...we have lied to, betrayed...the women we have ignored and disparaged. Once the idea exists, it cannot be killed." He stopped in the middle of the crypt. "This is the work of a single minded person, someone who knew first-hand about Sir Eustace's mental cruelty. A dark secret, kept from all but her closest friends…" he felt something behind him, but didn't turn around. Not yet. "...including Emelia Ricoletti… the woman her husband wronged all those years before. If one disregards the ghost, there is only one suspect. Isn't that right, Lady Carmichael?" He turned around quickly, faced with a figure dressed as the Bride. "One small detail doesn't quite make sense to me, however. Why engage me to prevent a murder you intended to commit?" She didn't respond. "Hmm?"

The Bride huffed, causing the veil to shift. "It doesn't quite make sense; this doesn't quite make sense. Of course it doesn't make sense. It isn't real." Moriarty's voice said from behind the veil. "Oh Sherlock." Moriarty began, but Sherlock only blinked in confusion. Moriarty flipped the veil over, revealing his face with a small smudge of dried blood on his mouth, where he had shot himself earlier that evening.

"Peekaboo." Moriarty smiled. "That is Ophelia's favorite game isn't it?"

"No. No, not you." Holmes muttered.

"She laughs so hard everytime. It's adorable."

"It can't be you." Holmes went on in shock.

"I mean, come on, be serious. Costumes, the gong. Speaking as a criminal mastermind, we don't really have gongs, or special outfits."

Holmes closed his eyes.

"What the hell is going on?" John asked.

Holmes opened his eyes again.

"Is this silly enough for you yet? Gothic enough? Mad enough, even for you? It doesn't make sense, Sherlock, because it's not real. None of it."

"What's he talking about?" John spoke up again.

"This is all in your mind." Moriarty went on. Holmes shut his eyes again, a light running across his closed lids that he could see.

"Holmes!" He heard Watson's voice.

"You're dreaming." Mary came next. "Is he dreaming?" She asked.

Sherlock opened his eyes, gasping as his vision cleared. Mary was sitting at the foot of the bed, John sitting closer, shining a penlight in his eyes, almost blinding him. Sherlock spotted Mycroft standing at the foot of the bed, staring at him as if he were at the zoo, all signs of worry and guilt he showed on the plane either gone, or under control, which Sherlock was thankful for.

He moved his hand slightly, his fingers bumping into cold flesh. He looked, finding tiny pale fingers, and followed the arm attaches to find Elizabeth, who, unlike his brother, wore her emotions and fear on her sleeve, even now. Her anger, which he noticed previously had vanished, and instead of anger, fear darkened her eyes and the tiny, almost unnoticeable pools in them. He wasn't even sure she noticed them, but he did. He _absolutely_ noticed them, and felt a vice grip on her heart and a bit disappointed in himself-hating himself- knowing this was the reason-_he_ was the reason. The hell he put her through time and time again, and the only other time she really shed a tear was when he was gone two years.

And now, here she is again, tears building with worry, and he was the reason.

He reached a finger out, wrapping it around one of hers with a weak smile.

She smiled back, though it looked like she was trying not to, and he knew he wasn't forgiven completely, but for now all was alright.

John, however, was not happy. Putting the pen light away as soon as he noticed Sherlock was awake, he crossed his arms.

"Ah, there he is." Mycroft began. "Thought we'd ost you for a moment. May I just check; is this what you mean by 'controlled usage'?"

Sherlock attempted to sit up in the hospital bed they moved him to, but stopped himself. "Mrs Emelia Ricoletti. I need to know where she was buried." Sherlock said, his voice slurred.

"What, a hundred and twenty years ago?!" Mycroft asked.

"Yes." He struggled to sit up, but Elizabeth put a hand to his chest, pushing him back, while John had one on his shoulder.

"That would take weeks to find, if those records even exist. Even with my resources…"  
"Got it." Mary spoke up, looking at her phone. The hand on his chest curled into a loose fist, and Sherlock saw Elizabeth close her eyes and sigh, letting him up.

* * *

Sherlock pulled the shovel from the police car, leading them through the cemetery to Emelia Ricoletti's grave.

"I don't get it. How is this relevant?" John asked, following Sherlock around the graves.

"I need to know I was right, then I'll be sure."

"You mean how Moriarty did it?" Mary asked.

"Yes."

"But none of that really happened. It was in your head." John argued.

"My investigation was the fantasy. The crime happened exactly as I explained." Sherlock answered.

"The stone was erected by a group of her friends." Mary added, walking beside Elizabeth, who was silent the whole ride to the cemetery, and had her arms crossed as they walked.

"I don't know what you think you'll find here." Mycroft admitted.

"I need to try!"

At last, they had found the gravestone they were looking for, old and crumbling around the edges.

EMELIA RICOLETTI

BELOVED SISTER

FAITHFUL BEYOND DEATH

DIED DECEMBER 18 1894

AGED 26

"Mrs. Ricoletti was buried here, but what happened to the other one, the corpse they substituted for her after the so-called suicide?" Sherlock asked everyone as they gathered around the stone.

"They'd move it. Of course they would." John answered, as if the answer was obvious.

"But where?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, not here!"

"But that...that's exactly what they must have done. The conspirators had someone on the inside. They found a body, just like Molly Hooper found a body for me when I…" Sherlock looked at the faces of John and Elizabeth. John threw him a dark look, and while Mary was looking to the sky, Elizabeth's head went down, her eyes focused on the grass before her feet. "Yeah, well, we don't need to go into all that again, do we?"

"You're not seriously gonna do this?" John asked.

"It's why I came here! I need to know."

Elizabeth opened her mouth to say something, but it was John who spoke, interrupting her.

"Spoken like an addict." He mumbled.

"This is important to me." Sherlock argued.

"No-this is you needing a fix." John turned away.

"John…" Elizabeth said quietly, but he ignored her.

"Moriarty's back. We have a case! We have a real-life problem right now."

"Getting to that! It's next on the list! Just let me do this." Sherlock bent to the grave, but John didn't let up.

"No, everyone always lets you do whatever you want. That's how you got in the state."

"John, please…" Sherlock begged.

"I'm not playing this time, Sherlock, not anymore." John took a step back. "When you're ready to go to work, give me a call." He took Mary's arm. "I'm taking Mary home."

"You're what?"

"Mary's taking me home."  
"Better." Mary smiled. John and Mary glanced at Elizabeth.

"Will you take Ophelia with you."

"Eliza-"

"Of course we will." Mary grinned, cutting John off, who was going to protest against her staying, and lead John towards the car Ophelia was in with Anthea.

"He's right, you know." Mycroft stepped forward.

"So what is he's right. He's always right. It's boring." He looked down for a moment. "Will you help me?" he asked everyone who was standing around the grave. Lestrade glanced at Mycroft, then looked to Elizabeth who met his eyes briefly, then looked aside, taking a deep breath.

"Cherchez la famme." Mycroft answered. _Look for the woman._

Lestrade nodded. He looked to Elizabeth. He didn't expect her to help, and if she did, he didn't want her digging, but he would like her to be there, for whatever reason, he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He didn't want her to walk away too.

It looked for a while as if she were going to. She stayed silent, shuffling on her feet before she raised her head, holding it high, pulling up her sleeves and meeting his eyes.

"Je suis prest." She answered, holding her hand out for a shovel. Lestrade passed her one without question and she walked towards the grave, joining Lestrade in the digging.

_I am ready._

_Stopping 'er there._

_A bit of an 'Outlander' reference (maybe two…? I don't know, I think I only put je suis prêt in, but I might have added more._

_For those who haven't read the 'Outlander' series, I highly recommend them. The books are amazing, the show is amazing-honestly one of the best tv shows I've watching that's based on the books. It follows the books well, and the actors look like the characters are described, minus a few features, but you can't have it all, and it would be hard to find someone identical to the character with the talent required. I am on the fourth book now, and I can't stop reading. Usually I read about 20-30 pages a day. Today I read about 100-150…If that tells out anything at all._

_Je suis prest (je suis prêt in modern French, but mottos and crests don't change over time) (I am ready) is the motto of Clan Fraser, and is said throughout the books by many characters. I say it quite a bit, and thought it added something in that scene, keeping with the French sayings, and showing Elizabeth's determination to help Sherlock, even though she's upset with him._

_Reviews:_

_From: galwidanatitud_

ugh! you left me hanging there! ;)

_Sorry for the cliffhanger! ;)_

_I love you...promise _

From:A.J. Parker94

Ouch. Sorry that you're not feeling so well. My mother currently has the same symptoms that you have, so it seems to be going around everywhere. I hope you feel better soon!

Man, I feel the same as Elizabeth and John in here. I'm very disappointed in Sherlock for using, especially with Ophelia around him. But then again...I don't know. I've only watched the Abominable Bride all the way through once and a little snippits of it more than a few times, and I got the impression that that moment was still in Sherlock's Mind Palace, that it didn't truly happen. But I'm not entirely sure...I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S REAL AND WHAT'S NOT ANYMORE! *runs around flailing my arms* (yeah, that episode really did a number on my mind)

Aw, don't feel horrible about that scene with Moriarty. I meant that it made me feel disgusted and angry in a good way. You made me FEEL something- and something very strongly, mind you- for the characters. That's a sign of good writing.

I love musicals, too! Though I'm not as picky about them as other things. But this Hamilton sounds awesome (despite the rap part). I gotta go check it out sometime!

Also, nice to see you getting into Harry Potter! I'm a Ravenclaw as well! *high five!*

_*high fives*_

_I thought for a long time I was Hufflepuff, but I finally broke down and took a quiz, and I was quickly corrected. But I'm happy with my house._

_The Abominable Bride really threw me for a loop the first time I watched it. I had to really watch it a few times to understand it completely. The way I understood it was the scene really did happen because when he wakes up again, the refer back to that scene...but I could be wrong, it's been awhile since I've seen it._

_I'm feeling a lot better than I was. Now everyone else has it. Really all I'm dealing with now in post nasal drip, which caused me to cough a LOT at night, but that's getting a little better too. I hope your mom is getting better too! This stuff sucks!_

_Thanks for the review and I hope you liked this chapter_

From:kuppcake

Good chapter. The part about the list always gets me. I wonder if we'll ever know what was on that list or if they're just going to let us use our imaginations.

_Thank you very much._

_I would be interested in seeing what was on the list. They'll probably leave us to our imaginations, but I hope not._

From:Ellis Jenkins

This is quite possibly one of the best chapters that you've inserted Elizabeth into! Hope you feel better soon! :)

_Thank you very much! I'm glad I did well! And thank you. I'm feeling much better now!_

From:Aubrey Cortez

So, I probably should've noticed this before, but I really like how you change the narrative when you transfer into Sherlock's version of reality. I imagine it was very difficult.

I'm sorry you're not feeling good! Everyone I know seems to have this bug going around! Which is bad, because all my friends are theater kids like me, and we're about to starting theater-ing again. We really can't afford to lose our voices.

_Thank you. I'm glad you like it. This switch in this chapter is a bit...odd, I felt like...because there's not a line or anything to separate the switch to it's a bit...muddled…_

_Oh, this bug is terrible. I hope you don't lose your voices, and can keep theater-ing ;) I haven't been in theatre in a long time (if you can call a middle school play theatre…) I was fun, though, and I would love to try it again. The theatre in my area is doing Beauty and the Beast ( one of my favorites) sometime next year, so I'm thinking about auditioning for that._

_Eruaphadriel Xx_


	63. Chapter 63

They worked well into the night. They set up portable lights and Mycroft did his part, holding a torch over the edge of the large holes Sherlock, Lestrade, and Elizabeth had created in a few hours time. Sherlock had taken off his jacket, rolling up his shirt sleeves. Greg had done the same, both of them covered in dirt, while Elizabeth was left in just a sweater, flinging her coat out of the hole and into the grass above her, continuing to shovel dirt. Sherlock could tell that she was getting tired, and that she would be sore, but she kept going, shoveling out pounds and pounds of dirt.

Sherlock plunged his shovel into the dirt again, but it stopped, hitting something hard underneath. Elizabeth and Lestrade both stopped in their digging as Sherlock scooped some dirt from the top of the coffin. Lestrade gave Elizabeth a boost out of the grave, and he pulled himself out as Sherlock revealed the last covered bit of the coffin, being careful where he stepped on the old wood.

Sherlock and Lestrade lifted the coffin out of the grave, putting it on the ground by their feet. Lestrade took the crowbar, lifting one side, handing the bar to Sherlock so he could pry open the other. They lifted the lid, putting it on the ground by the coffin. All covered their noses and Elizabeth let out an audible gag at the stench from the rotting corpse lying inside the coffin, surrounded by the rotted remains of a yellowing wedding dress. Sherlock groaned, the smell finally reaching his nose, and he put the back of his hand to his nose and mouth.

Mycroft shined his light into the coffin, kneeled beside it, and then looked underneath as best as he could. Sherlock leaned over the coffin, reaching underneath the corpse.

"Oh dear. The cupboard is bare." Mycroft commented. Sherlock rose from his knees, staring at the grave.

"They must have buried it underneath. They must have buried it underneath the coffin." Sherlock jumped down into the grave, scooping piles of dirt.

"Bad luck, Sherlock." Lestrade called down, but Sherlock still scooped dirt and threw it out.

"Maybe they got rid of the body another way." Lestrade suggested.

"More than likely. At any rate, it was a very long time ago. We so have slightly more pressing matters at hand, little brother. Moriarty, back from the dead?"  
"What if he isn't, though." Elizabeth butted in. "What if this is someone else trying to distract us. There's no way he could have stayed alive. No way he could have pulled off some illusion to trick you, Sherlock. You were standing right there..."

Sherlock tried to listen to her, he really did, but her voice faded, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

"_Do not forget me."_ Came a harsh whisper from behind him. He heard Elizabeth stop talking as he rose to his full height, looking behind him at the coffin, where the voice came from.

"_Do not forget me." _It whispered again. Mycroft shined his light back into the coffin. The bony hand rose, the arm straightening out. They could hear the bones creak as the corpse's head lifted and the coffin shook. They heard a woman scream as the corpse toppled over the side of the coffin, into the grave, landing on Sherlock, causing him to close his eyes tight and fall under the skeleton's weight.

Holmes opened his eyes to a new sound and new setting, a narrow rock by a large waterfall, causing the rock to be soaked and slippery. Water hit him as if it were raining, but he knew it was from the fall beside him.

"Oh, I see." he propped himself up on an elbow. "Still not awake, am I?"

He looked along the ledge,and pulled the deerstalker down over his face.

"Too deep, Sherlock. Way too deep." Professor Moriarty stood a few yards away. Holmes rose to his feet.

"Congratulations. You'll be the first man in history to be buried in his own Mind Palace." Moriarty continued. Holmes, who had been looking at the waterfall, turned to face Moriarty.

"The setting is a shade melodramatic, don't you think?" Holmes asked.

"For you and for me?" Moriarty asked. "Not at all."

"What are you?"

"You know what I am. I'm Moriarty." He answered. "The Napoleon of crime." He continued, sarcastically.

"Moriarty's dead."

"Not in your mind." Moriarty shook his head. "I'll never be dead there. You once called your brain a hard drive." He took a step forward. "Well say hello to the virus. This is how we end, you and I. Always here, always together."

Moriarty had stopped walking forward, as Holmes took a few steps to Moriarty.

"You have a magnificent brain, Moriarty. I admire it. I concede it may be the equal of my own."  
Moriarty smiled. "I'm touched. I'm honored."

"BUt when it comes to the matter of unarmed combat on the edge of a precipice…" Holmes continued as Moriarty's smile dropped. "..you're going in the water...short-arse."

Moriarty lashed out. He took his fingers and jabbed them into Holmes' throat, causing him to choke and stumble back, his deerstalker falling onto the ledge. Moriarty then grabbed his ears, shoving him against the rock wall. Holmes managed to push him away and punch him in the face.

"Oh, you think you're so big and strong, Sherlock! Not with me!"

He punched Holmes in the face, the impact spinning Holmes around and he tripped, falling to the ground. Holmes rose again, swinging at Moriarty, but Moriarty blocked it and shoved him to the ground, his head over the drop of the ledge.

Holmes managed to roll to his back just as Moriarty stood over him.

"I am your _weakness_!" Moriarty yelled, kicking Holmes in the head. "I keep you _down_!" He kicked his side. Moriarty got down on his knees, leaning forward to yell in Holmes' face.

"Every time you _stumble_, every time you _fail_, when you're _weak_…" Moriarty hit his chest and stood up. "I…._am...there." _He punched his chest again and then dropped to his knees again.

Holmes tried to sit up, but Moriarty grabbed his coat. "No. Don't try to fight it. _Lie back and lose_!" He pulled Holmes to his feet, then shoved him sideways, bending him over the ledge. "Shall we go over together? It has to be together, doesn't it? At the end, it's always just you _and me_."

Someone cleared their throat behind them, and Moriarty looked over. Watson stood a few feet away, gun in hand, pointing it at Moriarty.

"Professor, if you wouldn't mind stepping away from my friend. I do beleive he finds your attention a shade annoying."

Holmes smiled as Moriarty released him and glanced behind Watson to see Elizabeth standing quietly beside him with a smile.

"That's not fair." Moriarty whinned. "There's three of you."

"There's always three of us. Don't you read The Strand?" Watson asked. Elizabeth's brows furrowed and Watson turned back to her. "You're actually in the next one." He said as he threw the deerstalker he found on the ledge back to Holmes, who put it on again.

"Oh." She grinned as Watson turned back around, happy to be included.

Watson gestured to the ground with his revolver. "On your knees, Professor."

Moriarty dropped to his knees.

"Hand behind your head." Watson instructed. Moriarty did as he was told.

"Thank you, John."

"Since when do you call me John?" Watson asked.

Holmes smiled. "You'd be surprised."

"No I wouldn't. TIme you woke up, Sherlock."

Holmes, who had been looking away, turned back to Watson, surprised.

"I'm a storyteller. I know when I'm in one."

"Of course." Holmes said. "Of course you do, John." He smiled again.

"So, what are they like? Us," He nodded to Elizabeth. "In the other place?"

"Smarter than they look."

"Pretty damned smart, then."

"Pretty damned smart." Holmes answered with a smile. Moriarty made a disgusted noise beside them.

"Urgh. Why don't you two just elope, for God's sake?" He asked.

"Impertinent!" Watson exclaimed.

"Offensive."

Elizabeth only giggled to the side and Watson glared at her, causing her small smile to widen.

"Actually…" Watson lowered his revolver. "Would you mind." Watson looked at Moriarty. Holmes wasn't sure what he was asking, but he assumed Watson was asking on behalf of him and Elizabeth.

"Not at all." Holmes answered.

Watson only glaced at Elizabeth and she stepped forward, gathering all the strength she could muster and shoving Moriarty off of the ledge without waiting for Watson so help her.

"Well, it was our turn." Watson said as Moriarty's scream ended.

"Quite so." Holmes agreed.

"Are you planning to wake up?" Elizabeth asked, leaning to look past Watson to Holmes. He grinned.

"Of course."

"How _do_ you plan to wake up?" Watson wondered. Holmes looked around.

"Oh, I should think like this." He stepped onto the ledge.

"Are you sure?" Watson asked. Holmes looked to them both.

"Between us, I always survive the fall."

"But how?" Watson asked.

Holmes faced forward again. "Elementary, my dear Watson."

He took the deerstalker off, throwing it over the ledge. He bent his knees and leaped off of the ledge, falling with his arms outstretched and a smile on his face.

* * *

His eyes shot open, still red and glassy, pupils dilated.

"Miss me?" He asked, and I felt the urge to slap him.

John was leaning over him, Mary and I in front of him, Mary leaning forward in her seat, while I was crouched on the ground.

"Sherlock?" John asked. "You alright?"

"Yes, of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" He asked.

"Because you probably just OD'd. You should be in hospital." Mary answered.

"No time." Sherlock got up. "I have go to Baker Street now. Moriarty's back." He stumbled as he walked, trying to leave the plane.

"I almost hope he is." Mycroft admitted. "If it'll save you from this."

Sherlock reached out and grabbed the list Mycroft was holding in front of him, tearing it into halves.

"No need for that now." He threw the pieces of paper on the floor. "Got the real thing. I have work to do." He took another step and Mycroft spoke again.

"Sherlock. Promise me."

Sherlock looked around. "What are you still doing here?" He asked Mycroft. "Shouldn't you be off getting me a pardon or something, like a _proper_ big brother?" Sherlock pushed passed Mycroft, leaving the plane, Mary, John, and I following him.

"Look after him." Mycroft asked as John and I were leaving. "Please." He added.

We nodded, leaving the plane.

Sherlock was putting his coat on when we went outside, walking towards the car.

"Sherlock, hang on. Explain. Moriarty's alive, then?" John asked.

"I never said he was alive. I said he was back." He took his gloves from his pocket, putting them on.

"So he's dead?" Mary wondered.

"Of course he's dead. He blew his own brains out. No-one survives that. I just went to the trouble of an overdose to prove it."

"Moriarty is dead, no question. But more importantly, I know exactly what he's going to do next." Smiling, he continued on his way towards the car.

* * *

******"****Flying machines;these, er, telephone contraptions…" Watson shook his head, pipe in his hand. "What sort of lunatic fantasy is that?**

"It was simply my conjecture of what a future world might look like, and how you and I might fit inside it." Holmes answered. "From a drop of water, a logician should be able to infer the possibility of an Atlantic or a Niagara."

"Or a Reichenbach." Watson added.

"Have you written up your account of the case?" Holmes asked.

"Yes." Watson answered.

"Hmm. Modified to put it down as one of my rare failures, of course.

"Of course." Watson agreed.

Holmes thought. "'The Adventure of...the Invisible Army.'" He mused. "'The League of Furies'?" He leaned forward with a smile. "'The Monstrous Regiment'." He added.

"'Monstrous'?" Elizabeth added from the other room, leaning to look at her husband, putting her book down with a smile. She knew what he had meant, but teased him about it still. With a small chuckle, she leaned back and continued reading.

"I rather thought…'The Abominable Bride'."

Holmes sat back. "A trifle lurid."

"It'll sell. It's got proper murders in it too."

"You're the expert."

"As for your own tale, are you sure it's still just a seven percent solution that you take? I think you might have increased the dosage.

"Perhaps I was being a bit fanciful…" He looked down. "...but perhaps such things could come to pass." He stood. "In any case, I know I would be very much at home in such a word."

Watson chuckled. "Don't think I would be."

Holmes crossed the room, staring out of the window.

"I beg to differ." Holmes answered. "But then I've always known I was a man out of my time."

_There it is._

_The last chapter for a while, sadly._

_Before I go on, I'm going to wait until season/series 4 has ended and I have time to plan and process what's happened. So, probably around the end of January/middle of January I'll start writing the next few chapters._

_ALSO this story is currently being edited...or completely rewritten, however you want to look at it. Nothing will change, all major plot points will be the same, but I feel like I can do better now with the first few chapters than I did then, so I'm going through and making some changes. _


	64. About Season 4

_Hey guys! I haven't talked to you since last year, how are you?_

_I wanna talk about season 4, if we can, then I'll talk about this story._

_Season 4 has been a roller-coaster…and not one of those where you get off and say "Oh, yeah! Let's do that again! That was awesome!"_

_It's more like, when you get off you do the thousand mile stare into the horizon and think, "Dude…the hell did I just get myself into"…and then get back on because it seems like a good idea…maybe you were just over reacting, and then you realize you weren't._

_And repeat._

_It's been a great ride though (I have mixed feelings, obviously). I have been on the brink of a panic attack the last two episodes, but it's been okay. _

_I love the writing for this season, and the editing. I think it was a good thing that they took the three years, instead of two like they normally do. I feel like they had more time to edit and add foreshadowing (Something I live and am not very good at…) and some really great "What the actual f**k" moment…I've had them._

**_ *FROM THIS POINT THERE WILL BE SPOILERS. I WILL PUT ANOTHER NOTICE WHEN I KNOW THERE AREN'T SPOLIERS BEYOND THAT POINT!*_**

_What about Mary's death? I've seen a lot of people were happy when she left, because they simply didn't like her, and a lot were devastated (like moi), but I want to know what you guys think about it?_

_I, honestly, cried. I hardly cry during TV shows. The only episodes that have really made me tear up are, like, two Game of Thrones episodes, and a Doctor Who episode('Vincent and the Doctor'…love it!), but TST made me bawl._

_I'm sad Mary had to go. She was one of my favorite characters, and I loved watching her in the show, and writing her here. Maybe I will do some one-shots with her, but I will miss having her involved in the main plots. I do agree with Amanda Abbington, though, that Mary did have to go. I knew it was going to happen sometime, she dies in the books, but I'm glad she got her episode._

_Also, I want to talk about John "I Think I Can Sometimes Be a Better Guy Than My Wife Gives Me Credit For, Even Though I Cheated On Her and Wanted More Than Texting' Watson! What?! The?! Heck?!_

_Part of me doesn't believe it, because I don't think that's something John would do? But at the same time, he's human, and in real life we do things that can be majorly out of character, and it's a human mistake. But, and I'll scream it at the top of my lungs IT'S THE FACT THAT HE KNEW IT WAS A MISTAKE, AND DID IT ANYWAY. He could have stopped it, he had that power, and he DID send that text, but still! Goodness._

_And then we learn he was kind of having an affair with Sherlock's sister, which I'm kind of excited to see more of. She seems like a fun character. I can't wait to see what happened that made Mycroft and Sherlock practically disown her (maybe they didn't, but that's how it seems.)_

_But I want to talk about the two biggest plot twists of the whole season so far…_

_Mrs. Hudson, who is a BAMF, and Mycroft, who might be gettin' himself some later on…_

_When I was waiting TLD, I had no earthly idea who was driving the red car. I thought it was Sherlock, but it didn't look like it when the driver got out. Then I kind of forgot about it while the whole meeting scene was going on._

_So when it was back, and we saw Mrs. Hudson get out of the red car I. Lost. My. Shit._

_I laughed so hard, I woke my parents. Not because I didn't think Mrs. Hudson could drive the sports car, it was the fact that she owned it, drove it like she stole it, with the police hot on her heels, while on the phone with the British government, listening to classic music on blast…and she's literally the sweetest, kindest character in the whole show. She's the LAST person I would have expected._

_Then she opened her trunk, and, oh boy. She managed….This little land lady managed to get this incredible high 6"0 maniac, not only handcuffed, but in her trunk. And the writers didn't think we'd want to see that go down._

_I was shocked, in a great way. Mrs. Hudson was one of my favorite characters before, but now she is a LEGEND to me. I want her to be my mother, or my grandmother at least._

_And Mycroft…I don't really have much to say about Mycroft except for 'go get some, my dude!'. I wasn't expecting it; I still don't know what to think about it…_

_I also don't know what to think about this new baddie. Hopefully he won't come around again next episode (though I know he will). He isn't like Moriarty was for me. He wasn't really…intriguing? He was just creepy all around with no redeeming qualities. Moriarty was funny, absolutely crazy, but he made it look fun. He was incredibly smart, as smart as Sherlock, and that's what made it so interesting. I like Toby Jones, it's nothing against him, the character is just a little bland to me (a bit like his cereal), but I might just have to watch it again. It was late when I got the chance to see it._

_Also, any Adlock shippers in the house? How excited are we?_

_I'm not a big Adlock shipper, to be honest, but it makes me kind of excited…maybe I ship it a little…or a bit more than a little. I don't know if she'll be back or not, but hopefully we do get to see a little bit of her in the next episode before she disappears again._

_So, what are some of your thoughts, feelings, Head canons, etc. about this season so far?_

**_*SPOILERS OVER! THERE IS NO NEED TO FEAR BEYOND THIS POINT, YOU ARE SAFE!*_**

_To those who haven't seen it yet, my heart goes out to you, and if you watch it and need someone to scream to, you can always come to me. I will be happy to scream along with you, and listen as you do so._

_I am really excited and heartbroken to be writing this season. I wanted to wait until it was finished, and wait a while for those who do transcripts to do the transcripts, but I don't wanna, because I'm just way too impatient, so I'm writing down notes and things now, and hopefully starting on the next chapter soon. I've missed writing this so much._

_Also, this story is being edited. The lovely Aubrey Cortez is helping me out with it. She's doing such an amazing job helping me edit, and I feel like the first chapters we've done so far are a lot better than they were, all thanks to her. She's put in some amazing notes and suggestions, and I can't wait to post the updated version._

_I still haven't decided if I want the updated version to be it's separate book, or to just replace chapters. Replacing the chapters would be a bit…cleaner, I guess, but at the same time, it's going to be a mess trying to remember which chapters I've replaced and which I haven't, and then, knowing me, I'll accident select the wrong chapter to replace. I'm still deciding on it._

_Anyway, I just wanted to check in, see what's up, and hopefully start some conversation over the past episodes to help hold us all over until next week :)_


	65. Chapter 65

**Guess who's back, back again**

**Shady's back, tell a friend**

**Guess who's back, guess who's back.**

I was practically pushed outside by Mycroft as he pushed Sherlock into the warm office, slamming the door shut.

Mycroft had somehow found a way to cover his little brother's back, but it was apparently top secret information, therefore I wasn't allowed to know.

They made sure Sherlock was clean before the meeting, but the whole ride over, he seemed to be soaring above and beyond cloud nine. I could hear voices from inside the office, muffled through the door. A few I didn't know, but I could make out Sherlock, who still sounded ecstatic, and Mycroft, who sounded extremely annoyed.

I leaned against the wall with a sigh, picking at the already chipping nail polish as I waited, watching as more government employees scurried through the halls, papers and clipboards, dressed in their best clothes. No one seemed to really want to be here, though I spotted a few who smiled at their coworkers before going back to business.

"Good morning. Can I help you?" Someone asked down the hallway. I turned to find a man in a well tailored suit standing towards the end of the short hallway, staring at me.

"Morning." I greeted. "And I'm just waiting for someone, thank you."

"Elizabeth Holmes?" They asked.

"Yes."

"Sherlock Holmes' wife?"

"The one and only." I answered as the door behind me swung open, revealing Sherlock already in his coat ready to leave.

The man retreated to the office at the end of the hallway as Sherlock walked out of the office, reaching into his pocket.

"Ginger nut?" He asked, holding a biscuit out towards me.

"Uh," I hesitated.. "How long have these been in your pocket?"

"Only a few seconds. I took a handful from the plate." He nodded back to the office he came from and I looked back, catching a glimpse of Mycroft arguing with some of his colleagues before shutting the door.

I took the biscuit, trusting him, and took a bite. I was never a fan of ginger nuts, but these weren't bad.

"Oh, John and Mary are going to meet us back at home and drop Ophelia off." I informed him as we walked out of the building. "Mary sent me a text on our way here. She offered to keep her overnight, but she already has trouble sleeping, she doesn't need a baby keeping her awake. And you're clean, so there's really no need, we'll be fine."

Sherlock hummed in response, holding out a hand for a cab. "Elizabeth, I don't think Mary was worried about keeping Ophelia because I was clean."

He got a cabs attention, and it began to slow as I thought about what he meant.

"Why else…"I trailed off, then I realized as Sherlock turned around and winked. "Oh." I sighed. "Mary Watson."

Sherlock laughed. "Let Mary and John take Ophelia for the night." The cab stopped at the curb, and Sherlock opened the door.

"Mary's going to know." I explained. Sherlock only shrugged.

"It's not illegal, Elizabeth." He opened the cab door wider, stepping aside. "Ladies first."

"Manners aren't going to help you get in my pants, Holmes." I warned. He only smirked.

I climbed in the cab and sent a text to Mary, asking to just to check and make sure Ophelia had everything she needed for the night. I got a text back a few minutes later.

_FROM: Mary_

_She does, and we have some things here just in case._

Another came a few seconds after.

_FROM: Mary_

_Have fun ;)_

Mary and John brought Ophelia back the next morning, and decided to stay for a while as Sherlock looked through the letters he had received this morning. .

John brought his laptop, setting it on the desk and typing, like old times as Mary stood behind Sherlock's chair, rubbing her stomach and her back.

"If this gets any better I'm going to get two knives." Sherlock stabbed some letters to the mantel.

"And a new mantle." I added, rubbing Ophelia's back as she sat in my lap, watching her father's every move.

"It pays to advertise." John answered, still typing. Sherlock sat down in his chair, typing on his phone, something he had been doing most of the morning. He grabbed his phone as soon as he got up this morning, only putting it down to dress, take a bite of breakfast Mrs. Hudson brought up, and to look through the mail.

"So what about Moriarty, then?" Mary wondered.

"Oh, I have a plan." he assured her. Mary grimaced, rubbing her stomach. I had offered her my chair, but she claimed it was more uncomfortable for her to sit than to stand.

"I'm going to monitor the underworld-every quiver of the web will tell me when the spider makes its move." Sherlock continued.

"Basically your 'plan' is just to sit there solving crimes like you always do?" John asked.

"Awesome, isn't it." Sherlock smiled across at him then stood, ripping the first letter from the freshly stabbed pile.

"He drowned, Mr. Holmes." The client informed us. However, Mr. Holmes didn't seem to be listening. He was pacing in front of the fireplace on his phone. I took his chair instead while John sat in his, Mary on the arm.

"That's what we thought." The client continued. "But when they opened his lungs…" She trailed off.

"Yes?" Mary prompted.

"Sand."

"Superficial." Sherlock spoke up, glancing at the client for a second before going back to his phone.

The rocking of the chair was lulling me to sleep, but the same couldn't be said for Ophelia.

She was exhausted. She had to be, and I could tell the poor girl was fighting sleep. At seven months old, she decided that sleeping through the night was silly, and that every couple of hours screaming was the answer to all of her problems. We bought several teething rings, knowing that was one of the reasons she was a lot fussier than usual, but it didn't seem to be working much.

Now, she wasn't wanting to sleep at all, and played with the front of my shirt to make sure she wouldn't dooze off.

I pulled the fabric away, prying her fingers from the button, making her angry, and she began screaming again.

I heard another yell from downstairs.

"Come back! It's the wrong thumb!"

I only groaned, throwing my head back for a second, rocking the chair a little harder.

John and Mary had been visiting almost everyday, and I couldn't be happier. Mary, being one of my best friends, gave me someone to talk to, and John helped Sherlock with cases, and took Ophelia for a while if I needed a break.

"Hopkins, arrest Wilson. Dimmock, look in the lymph nodes."

"Does he ever take a break." Mary asked me.

"Only to sleep." I answered quietly.

"Wilson?!" Hopkins asked over the computer's speakers. Sherlock's laptop was in his lap, phone in his hands.

"Lymph nodes?" Dimmock asked.

"Sherlock…" Mary said.

"Yes, you may have nothing but a limbless torso but there'll still be traces of ink left in the lymph nodes under the armpits. If your mystery corpse had tattoos, the signs will be there." Sherlock answered Dimmock, ignoring Mary.

"Bloody hell! Is that a guess?"

"I never guess." Sherlock answered only taking his hands and attention from his phone to hit a button on his laptop, presumably closing Dimmock's window.

"Sherlock…"Mary said again, a little louder.

"So he's the killer? The canary trainer?" Hopkins asked. I sighed, knowing he wasn't going to listen.

"More tea?" I pointed to the mug in her hand, resting on her stomach.

"Please." She passed it to me and I walked to the kitchen as Sherlock rattled on in the living room.

* * *

"A jellyfish?" I heard John laugh as him and Sherlock made their way up the stairs.I jumped up, hoping they would be able to watch Ophelia. With Sherlock working overtime, and Mrs. Hudson out most of the day, either shopping or at Speedy's, I hadn't left the flat in over a week and was itching to at least go for a walk, or socialise with another adult who understood and paid attention. I would have even preferred Mycroft's company if it were possible.

"You can't arrest a jellyfish." John continued.

"You can try." Sherlock responded. They reached the landing and I jumped from Sherlock's chair, walking towards the door, ready to ask if they minded taking her for an hour or so.

"We did try. Hey, Elizabeth." John greeted, taking his phone from his pocket.

"Hey." I responded as John frowned at his phone.

"Mary?" Sherlock wondered.

"Fifty-nine missed calls." John read.

"We're in a lot of trouble." Sherlock grinned at me. I took a step back as they ran down the stairs.

"Text me!" I called.

"We will!" Came an answer from John as the front door slammed.

"Just me and you, then." I said to Ophelia, going back to the chair and grabbing a book to read to her.

"Has that come out?" Mrs. Hudson passed the camera to Molly. Mary moved the baby, rubbing her back as she fussed a little, her a John grinning madly.

"They never come out when I take them." Mrs. Hudson laughed. "Aww, she's so beautiful."

Molly handed the camera back. "Have another go."

"What about a name?" Mrs. Hudson wondered.

"Catherine." John answered, but Mary looked back at him.

"Uh, yeah, we've gone off that." Mary told him.

"Have we?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

"Well you know what I think." Sherlock spoke up from the base of the stairs, his thumbs moving rapidly across his phone screen.

"It's not a girl's name." Mary and John said simultaneously.

"Elizabeth is a girl's name." I said, leaning forward in my chair. Mary grinned at me and John laughed. "Jane is too."

"Oh, have another." John joked.  
"No thank you. One is enough for me."

"Molly, Mrs. H, we would love for you to be godparents." John announced. Molly let out a surprised and grateful laugh while Mrs. Hudson grinned.

"If you…"John stood up, trailing off. He walked over to Sherlock and Mary leaned over to me.

Mary turned to me. "You were one,of our first choices, but…"

"I'm the Aunt." I finished, understanding.

"You're not upset are you?" She asked. I laughed.

"Of course not." I answered honestly.

"Well, u think John was going to ask Sherlock to be the godfather."

"I don't mind at all. Promise." I assured her.

I went to the Christening, standing behind the godparents and next to my mother. Harry was invited, but she didn't show. We didn't expect the she would.

"Father," the Vicar began ", we ask you to send your blessings on this water…"he leaned forward and drew a cross is the water with his fingertips. "...and sanctify it for your use this day, in Christ's name." he leaned back again, looking to John and Mary who were beaming with pride.

"Now, what name have you given your daughter?" He asked them. I leaned over, looking between Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson.

John smiled at his wife and daughter as Mary answered. "Rosamund Mary."

"Rosamund?" I heard Sherlock ask in front of me. Molly answered him.

'Means 'rose of the world'. Didn't you get John's text?"

Sherlock was looking down, but I couldn't see what he was looking at.

"No I delete his texts. I delete any text that begins 'hi'."

"No idea why people think you're incapable of human emotion." Molly mumbled loud enough for us to hear. Mrs. Hudson cleared her throat. "Sorry." Molly apologized. I leaned a bit further, seeing the top of Sherlock's phone and his thumbs moving across the screen.

A nudge in the back of the ankle from me and a warning from Molly made him put it away. I looked back to the happy couple and the Vicar, but I could see Sherlock's hands behind his back.

"And now the godparents. Are you ready to help the parents of this child in their duties as Christian parents?"

I turned my attention to the godparents again, and noticed Sherlock had his phone behind his back.

"I nudged his ankle again a little harder this time as Molly and Mrs Hudson answered, " We are."

Molly elbowed him to answer. Instead of his voice, however, it was his phones.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that. Please repeat the question."

I moved slowly, putting Ophelia down in her bed as carefully and quietly as I possibly could, trying not to wake her. She hadn't taken a nap today, like she usually did, and fought sleep with all of the might in her tiny body.

I put her down and tiptoes out. I heard her make a noise in her sleep and as I shut the door with a victorious smile.

I walked quietly down the stairs, smiling the whole way. She would wake up around 5 that morning, I knew that, but for now we would both sleep in peace.

I sat in John's old chair with a grin while Sherlock typed on his phone.

"Finally get her to go to sleep?" Sherlock asked, not looking up.

"Finally." I agreed, closing my eyes for a few seconds, enjoying the peace.

I opened them again, looking across to Sherlock ad he typed. I tried to catch his eye, but he wouldn't look at me. I sighed, giving up and getting up, walking to the bedroom.

"I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

"Night." He called back.

I made it halfway down the hall when Ophelia squealed angrily from her room, calling for me, and then for her father as well as she could.

I turned around to see if Sherlock was going to get her, but he didn't move.

I groaned, stomping upstairs and taking her from her crib. I decided that she wasn't willingly going to sleep, so I might as well take her back downstairs.

She stopped crying as soon as we began walking, her face red and swollen from crying, her face wet, and her bottom lip hanging out as she whimpered.

"What's the matter, huh?" I asked her as we entered the living room. I sat on the couch with her, holding her in my lap, letting her play with a stray hair that escaped my bun.

I glanced at Sherlock again. He was still on his phone, and hadn't moved an inch. Other than his fingers.

I laid Ophelia down in the playpen we had in the living room, walking to Sherlock l, standing in front of him

"Yes?" he asked, not looking up. I looked at his hands, judging, wondering whether he was holding the phone very tightly or not. It didn't look like he was, but I wasn't sure. "Elizabeth?" he asked, actually looking up at me. "Are you okay?"

Using his distraction as an advantage, I ripped the phone from his hands. He grabbed for it and I shoved it down my shirt.

"That's not going to stop me." he threatened. I stepped back as he got up and reached his arm up. I knew the phone being down my shirt wouldn't stop him, but I grabbed his arm, which did.

"Do you even charge your phone?" I wondered. I hadn't seems him plug it into the wall all day. I had barely used mine and mine was almost dead.

"Of course." he tried to rip his arm from my grip, but I held on.

"When?'"

"When I sleep."

"And when is that?" I wondered. I went to bed alone and woke up alone, his side of the bed freezing and a client in the living room.

"At night." he answered.

I sighed, letting go of his arm. "You're upset?"

"Of course I'm upset!" I said loudly, trying not to yell. "You never put your phone down! You haven't since you got back." I complained. "I feel like I haven't had a real conversation with you in weeks."

"Then talk to me." Came his solution.

"I can't. Not when you're practically hypnotised by your phone. It doesn't even feel like you're listening to me."

"I always listen to you." He answered. "But that was a very childish thing to do." he said, going back to the phone.

"Maybe." I agreed. "But, speaking of children…" I trailed off, my eyes shifting to Ophelia, who was making noises at her stuffed elephant. She had become more vocal in the past month. At 8 months she was beginning to try to talk and say different words other than Mama and Dada. It didn't sound like words, but she was trying.

"She likes the picture in this one, and she misses her dad." I picked a children's book up from the desk, handing it to Sherlock. He took it without complaint, placed a quick kiss to the top of my head, then walked to Ophelia, who ceased her conversation with her elephant to look up at her father, flashing him a gummy grin,

She let out a happy squeal followed by several 'Dada's as he lifted her into the air and carried her to the couch.

"Now then." He began, making himself comfortable and putting Ophelia in his lap. He opened the book, then looked at the toddler in his lap. "Let's see if mummy would like to join us for the story." He looked at me and I grinned. I had planned on going to bed and leaving them to their book, but I couldn't. I walked to the couch, curling up next to Sherlock and leaning my head against his shoulder as he 'read' the book to Ophelia (though it was more about the fun nature pictures for her).

Ophelia fell asleep as Sherlock rocked her. I had put his phone on the table, but he didn't move to take it when it vibrated. I had to turn the sound off, it was beginning to get annoying.

After Ophelia was put to bed, Sherlock came back downstairs and joined me again on the couch.

All thoughts of going to bed for me vanished when Sherlock picked up his phone, only to put it down again, the phone turned completely off this time.

We talked until the wee hours of the morning, almost like old times. Sherlock ended up with his head in my lap as I brushed his dark curls from his forehead.

"Mm, can I have my phone back yet?" He asked after a long silence.

"We'll see. If you behave." I answered.

"I'll never get it back, then." He mumbled.

"Not with that attitude." He glared up at me, jokingly. "I'll be lenient."

"Whatever." He sighed, trying not to smile.  
"I'm lenient." I thumped his forehead lightly.

We went to bed just as the sun began to rise, and when I woke up and rolled over, he was still asleep.

_Thought that was a good place to leave it for now._

_I'm back in my zone! It feels good!_

_There's a lot that's happened that I just haven't said to anyone because I haven't posted in awhile._

_Number One: Books. I obviously love reading and writing, and I have been trying to read at least one large novel in a month (I'm busy, so I don't read as much as I would like and one a month seems more reasonable.) January was 'The Book Thief'._

_Holy…..crow….That book was truly a work of art! I want it read to me on my deathbed. I used to not have a favorite book, but I found it. I watched the movie first, but I only really caught the last 30 minutes or so of it, so I knew how it ended. I had wanted to read the book for a while, but didn't know if I would really like it or not. However, it easily became one of my favorites. When I got to the end, since I knew what was going to happen, I didn't expect to be so emotional, but I bawled like a baby in my dimly lit bedroom in the middle of the night, trying to read through the tears. I rented the movie this weekend and while the movie was amazing, and I loved it, it didn't do the book justice. I felt there was a lot that was incredibly important in the book that wasn't mentioned or that didn't play as big of a part in the movie as it should have, and did, in the book._

_But this doesn't need to be any longer than it already is...if you really want to know all of my thoughts, I would be happy to share them, just PM me, or leave a review!_

_Also, I've started working. I tutor kids, which is amazing! I love it so far, but it's taking an hour from my day, and some of my energy. I do, however, enjoy it. So that's news, I guess._

_Thank you guys from reading, I am so glad to be back on my game, and I can't wait to keep writing! Also, if you leave a review, be sure to tell me your favorite moment from Season 4!_

_(Since it's been so long, I'm responding to reviews via PM and not on this chapter. Sorry. The next chapter, however, will include my responses to the reviews left on this chapter.)_

_Eruaphadriel Xx_


	66. Im still here, sorry

Hello all.

Sorry, this is not an update on the story, but an update, rather, on my progress…

I am still writing, I promise, I've just not been in the writing mood lately. Also, I'm a senior in high school this year, so with graduation, senior research projects, and senior binders and portfolios, so I've been really bogged down with that, so I haven't been writing and editing as much as I want to.

The edited version of 'Another Watson' will be posted shortly, however, thanks to the lovely Aubrey Cortez. Honestly, without her I don't think I would be as far as I am.

Also, I am working on my own original novel which I know I posted a lot about in previous author's notes, but now my ideas are coming together and I'm ready to start writing on it and I am so excited about it!

Another movie is in the works as well. Last time I tried making a movie, there were a lot of scheduling issues, since it was kind of short notice, however we have been working on thisone since December and now have an overflowing of people willing to help, so I'm really excited about it!

I just wanted to post an apology and explanation for not writing very much anymore. I am still writing, I promise, just very slowly. Hopefully the next chapter will be posted before April, as well as the edited version of the first few chapters.

Hope you are all doing well!

~Eruaphadriel Xx


	67. Chapter 67

_I'm back, I'm still here. I haven't written in a while because I just simply haven't been up to it. I haven't worked on any projects lately, but I'm trying to get somethings done. _

_Also, I have made a second Tumblr solely for books and book reviews. Since I've had trouble staying on top of reading, I decided to read a large novel each month and review it on Tumblr. I'm really excited about it. _

_This is where we're kind of going to loose site of the episode...the episode is still going on, but….you'll see. ;)_

_Also, new page breaks because I noticed that some weren't showing up on certain devices, so I've been trying different ones to see which will work and which won't._

"Good afternoon, Elizabeth." Lestrade greeted me as I walked up the stairs. I had taken a day off from taking care of Ophelia, leaving Sherlock to take care of her for the day, and instead took care of Rosie with Mary, giving her a little break. I remembered how much I appreciated it when she or Mrs. Hudson took care of Ophelia for a while when she was first born, and I wanted to repay the favor.

Ophelia was awake and Lestrade held her happily, both of them grinning happily as she put her chubby fingers in his hair.

"Afternoon." I grinned, putting my bag and coat on the couch.

"Lestrade's got a case, we're just waiting for John." Sherlock explained.

"Alright." I nodded, walking over to Ophelia. "Hello pretty girl." I said to her as she grinned at me, two bottom teeth peeking out of her gums.

"How's Mary?" Lestrade wondered.

"Exhausted. She slept most of the time I was there." I explained.

I heard another pair of footsteps coming upstairs and I turned to see John smiling as he trudged up the stairs.

"Hey." Greg greeted.

"Afternoon. He says you've got a good one, Greg." John answered.

"Oh yeah."

Greg sat down in the dining chair facing the fireplace. I perched myself on the arm of Sherlock's chair, taking Ophelia from Greg so that he could get into his bag, which held some of the reports, I assumed.

"It was David Welsborough's fiftieth birthday," he began. "Of course it was a rather large party. His son, Charlie Welsborough had been gone on his gap year, but David got a skype call from him. The video cut out in the middle, but there was still audio. According to David Welsborough, his son said he wasn't feeling well, but asked him to take a picture of a Power Ranger that was on the bonnet of his car and send it. Then the call cut out, David never heard anything back from him." Greg paused, taking a deep breath. "A week later…"

"Yeah?" John asked.

"...something really weird happens. Drunk driver-he's totally smashed, the cops are chasing him, and he turns into the drive of the Welsborough house to try and get away. Unfortunately, the driver ran into the back of Charlie Welsborough's car, petrol leaked out, and the car exploded. The drunk guy survived; they managed to pull him out, but when they put the fire out and examined the parked car, they found a body."

"Whose body?" John asked. Sherlock had stayed silent the whole conversation. I turned and looked down at him. He was grinning slightly, his hands steepled and eyes closed.

"Charlie Welsborough, the son."

"Are you sure?" I wondered. It didn't make sense. "He was on his gap year, you said."

"I did say." Greg nodded. "But, DNA all checks out. It was definitely him that was in the car. The night of the party the car's empty, and a week later the dead boy's found at the wheel."  
Sherlock chuckled beside me.

"I thought it would tickle you." Greg said to him. Sherlock kept his eyes closed.

"Have you got a lab report?" John wondered. Greg reached into the briefcase in his lap, retrieving the papers and handing them to John.

"Yeah, Charlie Welsborough is the son of a Cabinet minister, so I'm under a lot of pressure to get results."

"Who cares." Sherlock responded. His eyes were now wide open. "Tell me about the seats."

"The seats?" John wondered.

"Yes, the seats. The car seats."

Greg handed him a folder and Sherlock flipped through the papers finding the information he wanted.

"Made of vinyl." Sherlock said out loud. I look over his shoulder at the file, but couldn't read any of the writing. "Two different types of vinyl present." He looked up. "Was it his own car?"

"Yeah. Not flash-he was a student."

"Well that's suggestive." Sherlock answered.  
"Why?" Greg wondered.

"Vinyl's cheaper than leather."

"Er, yeah, right."  
"There's something else." John spoke up, looking up from the paper in his hands.

"Yes?" Sherlock said.

"According to this, Charlie Welsborough had been dead for a week."

"What?" Sherlock asked softly. My confusion only doubled. I tried to think of ways that could be possible, but there were none.

"The body in the car- dead for a week." John clarified.

"Oh, this is a good one! Is it my birthday? You want help?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, please."  
"One condition."

"Okay."

"You take all the credit. It gets boring if I just solve them all." He explained.

"Yeah, you say that, but then John puts it on his blog and you get all the credit anyway." Lestrade explained, or rather, complained.

"Yeah, he has a point." John agreed.

"Which makes me look like some kind of prima donna who insists on getting all of the credit for something he didn't do."

"I think you hit a sore spot, Sherlock." John stated, and I couldn't help but smile a little at Lestrade's ranting.

"...like I'm some sort of credit junkie." Lestrade finished.

"Definitely a sore spot."

"So you take all the credit." Lestrade pointed to Sherlock, who looked both confused and surprised.

"Okay."

"...thanks all the same. Look just solve the bloody thing, It's driving me nuts."

"Anything you say, Giles."

Everything fell silent as we stared at him. Lestrade, used to Sherlock getting his name wrong, started to put the files and things he had showed them back into his bag. Sherlock noticed our glares and mouthed to John, "What's his name?"

"Greg." John whispered back.

"What?"

I leaned in his ear. "Greg." I whispered as Lestrade finished putting things away.

"It's obvious, though, isn't it." John said.

"John you amaze me. Do you know what's happened?"

"Not a clue, it's just what you normally say at this point." John smiled.

"Could they have… I don't know, done something wrong? Not identified him correctly?" I wondered.

"Not likely, and wouldn't explain the corpse in his car." Sherlock answered.

"And there's an explanation for why _his_ corpse is in his car when he's supposed to be abroad?"

"Mmm, I think so. Well, then…" He stood, heading for the door, removing his dressing gown. "...let's help you solve your little problem, Greg."

John and Lestrade stood up after him, the latter grinning from ear to ear hearing his name correctly.

"You hear that?" he asked us.

"I know." John grinned back, following Sherlock out.

"You coming?" Sherlock asked.

"I can't. Ophelia." I explained. He sighed.

"Why not let Mrs. Hudson watch her for a day."  
"She's out playing bridge with Mrs. Turner."

"Ah." He nodded. "You sure? We can find a babysitter."  
I smiled at him. "Positive. Have fun, tell me what you figure out."  
"Promise." He smiled, buttoning his jacket and following John and Lestrade down the stairs as they joked with each other.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I stared at him from across the table.

"You're serious?" I asked.

"Yes. There were two different types of vinyl, the car seats and the costume." He said between bites of pasta.

"It just seems kind of…"I trailed off as he raised an eyebrow. "...far fetched. I don't doubt you, but I have no idea how you came up with it, is all." I explained. Ophelia banged on her high chair beside me and I picked up the baby spoon covered in applesauce, holding it to her mouth. She grabbed the end of the spoon herself, sucking on it.

"I went to see Mycroft afterwards, to see if maybe Moriarty had anything to do with Thatcher."

"Thatcher?" I wondered.

"The broken bust."

"Oh. Did he?" I took another bite.  
"No, he didn't, but I'm still not convinced."

"Maybe it's not Moriarty. I don't think he would, or the person posing as him, would come back so soon. "I wouldn't." I shrugged. He only hummed.

A spoon landed in front of us, applesauce and saliva covering the utensil. I didn't make a move to clean it up. I only picked my plate up, taking it to the sink, finished with my dinner.

"You've got that, right?" I asked, referring to the slobbery apple-covered spoon.

"Sure." he sighed, leaning forwards and picking it up, throwing it to the sink.

"It just seems so soon for him to come back."

"Maybe that's just what he thought. Trying to trick me."  
I almost rolled my eyes. "Not everything is clever." I reminded him.

"Do you really believe that?" He wondered. I nodded.  
"Some things can just be mundane."

"How dull."

I tried to keep the corner of my mouth from turning up, but I couldn't help it. Sherlock caught it as he put his plate in the sink and smiled as well, kissing my cheek.

"Will everything be alright if I go to bed?" he wondered.

"Yeah." I answered. "I'm not too sleepy anyway, I wouldn't mind putting Ophelia to bed. I'll take your plate, too."

He put the plate in the sink and began walking down the hallway. "Night." he called.

I said my goodnights and finished washing the dishes.

_A short chapter, but a chapter all the same._

_I'm interested in writing some one-shots, so if you want to send some ideas Elizabeth X Sherlock one-shots please do! _

_They don't have to be romantic one-shots. If you want to see Elizabeth and Mary interactions, I'll do those, or some Elizabeth and John sibling moments, I'll include those. I'm trying to get back into writing. _

_Thanks, and I'll see you later._

_Eruaphadriel Xx_


	68. Chapter 68

_Hello again._

_So, a little faster than last time. Not much, but I'm getting faster._

_Also, the first couple of edited chapters will be going up soon. The edited version is going to be a separate book, so nothing gets confusing._

_My dad and stepmom have finally moved into their new house, and I've been helping. My room here is much nicer than my room before, and I have a lovely view of the field and lake outside of my windows, which is where I put my desk. It's not bigger, but it's much brighter. I'll try to put a picture of my view on tumblr, if you're interested. My new desk and other furniture is (or at least looks) really old, too, and I'm just in love with this room. The only problem is that the WIFI in here sucks because I'm so far away from the router, but oh well, i can't have it all, I suppose._

_Also, if you read the one-shot book, a chapter was updated not too long ago if you want to check it out. It goes back to The Abominable Bride and has been sitting in the vault for a while. _

_Not much else to say other than sorry for the wait and I hope you enjoy the chapter!_

I was only halfway listening to whatever Sherlock was saying, amused by the balloon John had put in his chair earlier this morning without Sherlock even noticing John had left. Once he came back, he didn't move it. Instead he walked into the kitchen for some tea, and never came back in. I tuned back in once Sherlock rose and slammed the door shut on lestrade and Hopkins, who were waiting and talking (very loudly, I might add) outside the door.

"Now, you haven't always been in life insurance, have you?" Sherlock asked. "You started out in manual labor." he sat down. Mr. Kingsley opened his mouth to speak, but Sherlock cut him off. "Oh, don't bother being astonished, Your right hand's almost an entire size bigger than your left. Hard manual work does that."

"I was a carpenter, uh, like me dad." Kingsley responded.

"And you're trying to give up smoking, unsuccessfully, and you once had a Japanese girlfriend that meant a lot to you but now you feel indifferent about." He added.

"How the hell…" Kingsley trailed off and looked down. "Ah. E-cigarettes."

"Not just that – ten individual e-cigarettes. Now, if you just wanted to smoke indoors, you would have invested in one of those irritating electronic pipe things, but you're convinced you can give up, so you don't want to buy a pipe because that means you're not serious about quitting, so instead you buy individual cigarettes, always sure that each will be your last. Anything to add, John?"

He glanced at John's chair, and did a double take when he didn't recognize him. He stared at the balloon which was waving in the air, a face put on it in permanent marker, one that John sneakily nicked from the desk.

"John?" Sherlock asked, and John popped out from the kitchen, hand raised in the air as a wave.  
"Er, yeah, yeah, listening."

"What is that?" Sherlock referenced the balloon.

"That is...me. Well, it's a me-substitute." He explained.

"Don't be so hard on yourself." Sherlock said, glancing to Kingsley and then me,who was smiling at him from my spot on the couch. He chuckled, looking a little awkward as he continued. "You know I value your little contributions."

"Yeah?" John asked. "It's been there since nine o'clock this morning."

"Has it? Where were you?"

"Helping Mrs. H with her sudoku."

"What about my girlfriend?" Kingsley asked, interrupting their conversation. Sherlock's attention went back to him, and he took a deep breath, prepared to answer the question.

"What?"

"You said I had an ex." Mr. Kingsley explained.

"You've got a Japanese tattoo in the crook of your elbow in the name 'Akako." He explained. "It's obvious that you've tried to have it removed."

"But surely that means I wanna forget her, not that I'm indifferent." mr. Kingsley challenged, looking at the tattoo.

"If she'd really hurt your feelings, you would have had the word obliterated, but the first attempt wasn't successful and you haven't tried again, so it seems you can live with the slightly blurred memory of Akako, hence the indifference."

Mr. Kingsley chuckled a little, holding his hands up.

"Sorry, I-I thought you'd done something clever, no, no. Ah, but now you've explained it, it's dead simple, innit?"

I couldn't help me smile, and it seemed John couldn't either. Sherlock, however, wasn't amused. He took a deep breath, straightening up in his chair, as if he were uncomfortable, then spoke.

"I've withheld this information from you until now, mrs. Kingsley, but I think it's time you knew the truth."

"What d'you mean?"

"Have you ever wondered if your wife was a little bit out of your league?" he questioned.

"Well…"

"You thought she was having an affair. I'm afraid it's far worse than that. Your wife is a spy."

"What?"

"That's right. Her real name is Greta Bengtsdotter. Swedish by birth and probably the most dangerous spy in the world. She's been operating deep undercover for the past four years now as your wife for one reason only; to get near the American embassy which is across the road from your flat."

I partially wondered if he was making all of this up. It seemed likely, but with half of the things that have happened with different clients, part of me actually, foolishly believed the information he was feeding Mr. Kingsley at break-neck speed.

"Tomorrow the US President will be at the embassy as part of an official state visit. As the president greets members of staff, Greta Bengtsdotter, disguised as a twenty-two stone cleaner, will inject the president in the back of the neck with a dangerous new drug hidden inside a secret compartment inside her padded armpit. The drug will then render the president entirely susceptible to the will of their new master, none other than James Moriarty."

Now I knew, for a fact, that this was made up.

"What?" Mr. Kingsley asked, but it was no good. Sherlock didn't stop to explain.

"Moriarty will the use the president as a pawn to destabilize the United Nations General Assembly which is due to vote on a nuclear non-proliferation treaty, tipping the balance in favour of a first strike policy against Russia. This chain of events will then prove unstoppable, thus precipitating World War Three."

John chuckled as Sherlock finished.

"Are you serious?" He asked.

"No, of course not." he admitted, standing up and walking to the door. "His wife left him because his breath stinks and he likes to wear her lingerie."

"I don't!" Mr. Kingsley defended, but was broken down when John stared at him. "Just the bras." He admitted.

"Get out." Sherlock opened the door and Kingsley left, walking between Lestrade and Hopkins, who were still outside waiting.

Sherlock closed the door on them, turning back to us.  
"So." John began. "What's all this about, then?"

"Having fun." Sherlock answered.

"Fun?"

"While I can."

"Mm-hm."

Someone knocked on the door, and it opened, revealing Hopkins, folder under her arm.

"Uh, Sherlock…"

"Borgia Pearl, boring go." He pushed her towards the landing, slamming the door once she was out of the way.

Almost as soon as the door closed, it was opened again, Lestrade this time.

"Oh, this had better be good." Sherlock said.

"Oh, I think you'll like it." Lestrade answered, reaching into his bag and pulling out a plastic bag, white chunks rattling inside of it. Sherlock's interest was peaked as he took the bottom of the bag, looking into it.

"That's the broken bust, isn't it? THe one that was broken." John asked.

"No, it isn't. It's another one; different part of town." Lestrade answered. "You were right! This is a...this is a thing. Something's going on."

Sherlock didn't answer, just stared at the contents of the plastic bag.

"What's wrong? I thought you'd be pleased." Lestrade said.

"I am pleased."

"You don't look pleased." Lestrade answered.

"This is my game face. And the game is on."

He took the plastic bag from Lestrade, going to the kitchen table which had become his lab, taking one of the pieces and placing it under the microscope. John, Lestrade, and I followed, watching him.

"Another two have been smashed since Welsborough one; one belonging to Mr. Mohandes Hassan…"

"Identical busts?" John wondered.

"Yeah, and this one to Doctor Barnicot in Holborn. Three in total. God knows who'd wanna do something like this."

"Someone who really doesn't like Margaret Thatcher?" I guessed half jokingly.

"Yeah, well some people have that complex, don't they-an idée fix." John glared at Sherlock as he spoke. "They obsess over one thing and they can' let it go."

"No, no good. There were other images Margaret…" he paused, looking away from the microscope. "...Margaret?" He asked.

"You know who she is." John aighed.

"...Thatcher present at the first break-in. Why would a monomaniac fixate on just one?"

"Maybe he has a thing about plaster busts as well?" I guessed, jokingly completely this time.

"Highly unlikely, darling, but nice try." Sherlock smiled up at me from the microscope. I grinned back. "Ooh." He exclaimed as he looked back at the piece of the bust.

"What?" John wondered.

"Blood." Sherlock answered. "Quite a bit of it, too." I leaned closer as Sherlock looked up at Lestrade. I leaned enough so that I could try to look into the microscope to see what he was talking about. Sherlock, seeing what I was doing, leaned out of the way and pushed the microscope over so I could see better.

I had to move around to see anything, but when I was able to get a good view, I could see spots of blood on white that I wasn't able to see on the bust piece without the microscope. While it may have seemed mundane, it was actually kind of neat.

"Was there any injury at the crime scene?" Sherlock asked Lestrade, who shook his head.

"Nah."

I looked away from the microscope, moving it back over it it's original spot.

"Then ou suspect must have cut themselves breaking the bust." Sherlock concluded, taking tweezers, picking up the broken piece of the bust and putting it into a plastic bag.

"Come on."

"Holborn?" John guessed.

"Lambeth." Sherlock answered.

"Lambeth? Why?

"To see Toby."

"Ah, right. Who?"

"You'll see."

"Right." John turned to Lestrade. "You coming?"He asked. Lestrade was going to answer, but Sherlock beat him to it.

"No, he's got a lunch date with a brunette forensic officer that he doesn't want to be late for." Sherlock got up, putting on his jacket.

"Did you tell him?" Lestrade wondered, looking at me. I raised my hands.

"I said nothing. My lips are sealed."

"Who told you?" Lestrade asked.

"The right sleeve of your jacket, the brunette hair on it, plus the formaldehyde mixed with your cologne, and your complete inability to stop looking at your watch. Have a good time."

"I will." Lestrade nodded.

"Good luck." I called as Lestrade was turning to go out of the door. He smiled at me, fixing his coat.

"Trust me, though," Sherlock continued, typing on his phone. "She's not right for you."

"What?" Lestrade turned around.

"She's not the one."

"Well thank you, Mystic Meg." Lestrade said before turning around again and leaving.

"How'd you work that out?" John asked quietly.

"She's got three children in Rio that he doesn't know about." Sherlock answered, still typing.

"Are you just making this up?"

"Possibly." He put his phone away. "Are coming with us?"

I thought about it. "Is Mrs. Hudson here?"

"Yeah." John nodded.

"I'll stop by and ask her to keep an eye on Ophelia, then."

I grabbed the baby monitor that was sitting on the counter and followed them downstairs, making my way to Mrs. Hudson's flat.

Thankfully she had no problem watching Ophelia, since she had to clean upstairs anyway (which I reminded her that she didn't have to do, but she insisted), and took the baby monitor, going upstairs with her basket of cleaning supplies.

"Who's Toby?" John asked in the cab.

"There's a kid I know, a hacker, brilliant hacker, one of the world's best. He got himself into serious trouble with the Americans a couple of years ago. He hacked into the Pentagon's security system, and I managed to get him off the charge. Therefore he owes me a favour." Sherlock explained.

The cab reached its destination just as he finished, and we got out, walking to the door.

"So how does that help us?" John asked as Sherlock knocked.

"What?"

"Toby the hacker." John reminded him.

"Toby's not the hacker."

"What?" John looked at me, but I had no explanation. I never knew Sherlock had taken the case.

"All right, Craig?" Sherlock asked as the door opened and a young man stepped out.

"All right, Sherlock?" He answered, smiling. Sherlock looked down at his feet.

"Craig's got a dog!"

I leaned over and saw a bloodhound walking out of the flat, a harness already on and a lead attached.

"So I see." John answered.

Sherlock smiled and chuckled as the dog walked towards him. "Good boy!"

I walked closer to the dog, leaning down to pet him, scratching behind his giant ears, the trademark of a hound.

"Hiya!" Someone else stepped out on the pavement.

"Mary, what are you…" John trailed off, holding up his hands as Mary emerged from the house. "No, we-we agreed we would never bring Rosie out on a case."

"No, exactly, so…" She handed Rosie to John, who still looked a little confused. "...don't wait up. Hey Sherlock, Elizabeth." She greeted.

"But…Mary, what are you doing here?" John asked.

"She's better at this than you." Sherlock answered instead.

"Better?"

"So I texted her."

"Hang on. Mary's better than me?" John asked, offended. I smiled.

"Well, she is a retired super-agent with a terrifying skill set. Of course she's better."

"Yeah, okay." John agreed.

"Nothing personal."

"What, so I'm supposed to just go home now, am I?"

"Oh, what do you think? Shall we take him with us?" Mary asked us.

"John or the dog?" Sherlock wondered.

"Ha-ha, that's funny." John said, be he obviously didn't find the situation humorous at all.

"John." Mary answered Sherlock's question. "He's handy and loyal."

"That's hilarious. Is it too early for a divorce?" John wondered.

"Divorce her and I disown you." I warned, pointing at him.

"Barnicot's house, then. Anyone up for a trudge?" Toby barked as if to answer his question. "Keep up, he's fast."

_Wow, this is almost a full length chapter. Six pages compared to the usual seven. I'm getting better._

_So the last bit was written in a span on 10:00 at night to 1:18 in the morning, so I don't know what it's like, plus an awkward phone call in the middle of that time...which kind of put me off and threw me for a loop…_

Reviews:

From: galwidanatitud

A calm chapter. Right before a s*** storm, right? ;)

_Definitely. This chapter wasn't bad, but I think things are going to keep getting worse from here. ;)_

From: Ellis Jenkins

Thank you so much for updating! 3 I loved this!

_Yay! I'm so glad you did! And you're welcome! I hope you enjoy this one as well_

_Also, thank you to those who have favorited and followed this story, or me, or both. It really means a lot to me, and seeing those numbers grow makes me so excited! I love writing this story, and seeing that people really like it too just makes me incredibly happy. I wish I could get all of you something special, you deserve it, but a thank you is all that I can manage (and afford because I'm broke…)_

_Thank you guys so much for reading!_

_Eruaphadriel Xx_


	69. Chapter 69

He was right; Toby was fast.

When he would actually move.

Toby wouldn't budge. We stopped on the street corner, all surrounding him, Mary holding his lead.

"He's not moving." John stated the obvious.

"He's thinking." Sherlock answered quietly.

"He's really not moving." John repeated.

"Slow but sure, John; not dissimilar to yourself."

John frowned, looking a Toby again.

"You just like this dog, don't you?" John asked.

"Well, I like you."

"He's still not moving." Mary reminded, sounding exhausted.

Sherlock looked down at Toby, and I was hoping he would intervene at this point and perhaps urge the dog to move forward, but instead he stared at him.

"Fascinating."

XXXX

He finally started moving again, leading us down several streets before taking us to Borough Market, finally slowing down in front of a butcher's, the butcher walking out, a pig carcass thrown over his shoulder in plain sight. Toby whined, looking at it.

"Clever." Sherlock said.

"Well, if you were wounded and you knew you were leaving a trail, where would you go?" Mary asked, staring at the butcher's.

"Like hiding a tree in the forest." John commented, Rosie still strapped to his chest.

"Or blood in a butchers." Sherlock bent down and stroked Toby's head. "Never mind, Toby. Better luck next time, hm?" He stood back up, looking around the market. "This is it, though. This is the one. I can feel it."

"Not Moriarty?" John wondered, and I sighed. Sherlock had become completely obsessed.

"It has to be him. It's too bizarre; it's too baroque. It's designed to beguile me, tease me, lure me in. At last- a noose for me to put my neck into."

I glanced to Mary, who shot a concerned look my way. I sighed again, hoping that maybe I can talk some sense into him.

XXXX

"Going back to Craig's. Want to come?" Sherlock asked, putting his coat on.

"No, Mrs. Hudson's not here to watch Ophelia, and…" I looked down at my pajamas "...I'm not really dressed."

"Alright." He nodded. "I'll be back before lunch, hopefully." He opened the door and was going to step out.

"Alright. Hey!" I got his attention. His head whipped back around.

"Yes?"

"Can we talk?" I wondered. He turned his whole body now. "It can't wait." I said, knowing exactly what his response was going to be.

"Of course." He walked back in, shutting the door, and sitting across from me in John's seat. I was sitting in his, Ophelia asleep in my lap as I rocked her side to side.

"I know that you think that this is all Moriarty."  
"It has to be." He answered.

"I know you think that, but does it? Really, does it? You said that Mycroft told you Moriarty had nothing to do with Thatcher. Nothing at all."  
"That's what he said." He agreed, brows furrowed.

"Then why is he smashing the Thatcher busts? That doesn't make sense." I tried.

"To confuse me, obviously."

"Maybe this is something else entirely. Maybe this is some obsessed criminal…"

"No." He interpreted simply.

"No?"

"No, there were other images of Margaret Thatcher at the first break in. If they really wanted to destroy a likeness of Margaret Thatcher they would have also smashed the other items." I could tell he was getting annoyed.

"All I'm saying is that it doesn't make sense that it's Moriarty. He would have made it like some sort of puzzle, and there's really nothing there but a few broken busts. You're going to end up tearing yourself apart over this. You're getting too obsessed.

"He wants to confuse me."

"He wants nothing! He can't want anything, he's dead! You watched him kill himself. This can _not _be Moriarty." I said, trying not to raise my voice too loudly. Ophelia squirmed in my arms and I looked down to make sure I didn't wake her. All I saw was the sleeping toddler and a pool of drool on my shirt.

"Well, we'll see, won't we." he stood up, walking towards the door. "I've got the grocery list, call if you need anything else."

"I will." I said, quietly as he left and I fought the urge to roll my eyes and laugh.

Sherlock wasn't home by lunch, sending me a text an hour later saying that another bust had been broken and that there was a murder this time. I knew he couldn't resist it.

Mrs. Hudson came up around dinner time, grocery bags in her hands.

"Sherlock called, said he would be home late and asked if I could bring the shopping." She explained, putting the bags on the table.

"Mrs. Hudson, we say it all the time, but you truly are a Saint." I grabbed my purse from the kitchen counter, taking out some money. "How much do I owe you?" I asked her.

"Oh, nothing. Sherlock and I met up and he gave me his card." She said, waving her hand and passing Sherlock's card to me.

"Well, thank you. I appreciate it." I answered, already thinking of ways I can pay her back.

She grinned. "Where's the little one?"

I smiled as well, nodding to the living room where Ophelia was, sitting up and playing with some blocks that my mom had gotten her for an early birthday present. The last time we went to visit, my mother had already bought them and had them stored away on the bottom shelf of her closet. Ophelia apparently sniffed them out and began playing with them before we had the chance to find her. Instead of holding onto the blocks, however, my mother just gave them to her early.

I had started to play her first birthday, but hadn't gotten farther than the guest list. I had a few more weeks to get it together, though.

Mrs. Hudson sat in John's chair, stacking some block with Ophelia, who had taken to calling her "gramma", since Mrs. Hudson loved and spoiled her as if she were her granddaughter.

She left an hour later, going to bed and I put Ophelia to bed as well. She was getting tired and fussy while Mrs. Hudson was playing with her, and I could tell she wouldn't be awake very long.

I was left in the living room alone, and , deciding not to break the wonderful silence, grabbed a book from the shelf, one that I hadn't read yet, and flipped through it.

I was on the fifth page and was considering just going to bed when Sherlock walked in. a visible bruise under his eye.

"What happened?" I put the book down immediately, going to get an ice pack from the freezer to put on his eye. He sighed, sitting in his chair, not answering.

I put the ice pack to his eye, and his hand came up to hold it there.

"I hate you say it, but…" He paused, then sighed. "...you were right. It's not Moriarty."

I refrained from saying 'I told you so" like I really wanted to, and pulled a dining chair next to his.

"You know who it was?"

"Is." He corrected, wincing as he shifted in the chair to face me. I suspected there were more bruises than just the one on his eye, but knew he would never tell me exactly what happened. He stayed silent, as if debating whether or not he should tell me.

"You don't have to tell me right now. Not if you don't want to." I offered, but he shook his head.

"It's one of Mary's old...friends, if that's the correct term."

"One of Mary's old friends did this to you? Did they know?"

He took a deep breath. "Him and Mary aren't really great friends anymore." I waited for him to explained. "The memory stick, remember it? A.G.R.A?"  
"Oh, yeah, Mary's initials." I nodded. I really didn't want to remember, but I couldn't forget.

"No." He said. "There were four of them. They all had a memory stick, a sort of insurance. Something went wrong, they were captured, all except from Mary, who got away. She thought they were all dead, but apparently they weren't. One thinks she lied to them, and now wants revenge." He took the ice pack off of his eye, looking at me.

"Why break the Thatcher bust?"

"He hid his memory stick in one of them. All of the busts that were smashed came from Tbilisi, Georgia, where the mishap occurred."

"And now he's trying to find her? To kill her?"

"I presume." He answered quietly. My heart, pounding wildly, fell to my stomach.

"Don't let that happen." I begged. "Please."

He gave me a small smile and grabbed my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I won't. Promise."

_So, super short, but I'm leaving it there for now._

_Also, I haven't had a lot of time to write this week, or last weekend. My mom and stepdad, who I currently live with, have a garage apartment that was in really bad shape. We've been fixing it up, cleaning, painting, putting in flooring and baseboards, new lights, all that good stuff, and I'm going to move in there (paying rent, of course, for utilities and all that jazz), so I'm really excited about it, but it's taken up a few hours of my day each day. _

_My mom just recently had surgery as well, so I've been helping her. Her second back surgery, but she's doing amazing! She walking and can finally feel her toes and legs (there was a lot of nerve damage), she just has some trouble getting out of bed or chairs, and changing her bandage. That's really my sister's job, since she wants to go into the medical field and is taking those classes, but I've done it too._

_My 'Downton Abbey' marathons are also finished. I just finished the whole series the other weekend, so there's more time to write. However, I'm still kind of extremely upset that I've finished it. (Also, fellow 'Downton Abbey' fans, does anyone know what Anna and Bates named the baby? Did they say what they were going to name him and I just missed it? All I know is that it was a boy… Kinda hoping they named him John., after his dad…) _

_But now that everything is calming down again, I can write. I feel like when things calm down again, though, and I realize it, that's when everything gets crazy. _

Also, I graduate in less than a month!

_There's nothing really important about that, I'm just really excited...I've been on cloud nine for a while now because of that news. _

_Catch you later!_

_Eruaphadriel Xx_


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